Too Late Found, Too Early Lost
by DaenerysTargary3n
Summary: After Michael visits Ukraine, his and Frieda's relationship deepens into close friendship. Frieda receives a call from her mother to bring Michael with her to her sister's wedding but it turns into something much more meaningful for her and Michael.
1. Family News

**Author's Note:** This a fanfiction written as a tribute to the character Frieda Petrenko and the astonishingly talented actress who portrayed her, Olga Fedorí, as in last week's episode of "Holby City", Frieda left the hospital. I would like to commend the creators of the marvellous BBC show for their ingenuity in writing the show and fully disclaim myself from trying to claim any backstory or character which was seen on the show. I would like to apologise in advance if my lack of talent at Slavic names falls short of anyone's expectations. Hope you enjoy this story!

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**Chapter 1 – Family News**

AAU was buzzing today and no one was working harder than me. I swear all other doctors in this department had taken a break. The place was heaving with sick people, all calling out "Doctor, Doctor!" It would have been a nice change if one of them had just told a joke afterwards...

Mr. Hemingway was supposed to be running the place, but he and Eddi were off in the wet lab together, doing God knows what. I was running around like a maniac quick as a bullet, going from patient to patient. Suddenly, I heard the loud bang of the doors as they parted, allowing a team of paramedics through, pushing a gurney with a bloody mess of a girl on it. I looked at Marie-Claire with a questioning expression, as I had not been told of any emergency cases making their way onto AAU.

She merely shrugged and said in her heavy Irish brogue, "Dr. Petrenko, thirty one year old man, fell from some scaffolding onto a spiked fence. Internal bleed, fractured ribs and left tibia and suspected puncture of the left lung on entry." I rolled my eyes at this information that should have been told to me much earlier, but that was AAU for you! I went over to the paramedics and listened intently as they listed all of the patient's stats and medical information. My ears picked up on the words "bleeding out", "went into VF on transit" and "no personal information". Great! Not only was I supposed to save this man's life, I also had to play detective and try to find out who he was – bloody typical!

My attention was quickly diverted from the scaffolding man's case, as a nurse on the station called, "Frieda, phone call for you!"

I shook my head. As if I could just leave this man, bleeding all over the floor and go to the nurse's station to start a phone call, but I had to yell over all the hustle and bustle of AAU to be heard, "Ask who it is! Then, tell them I am very busy and to call back when I am old lady!" My sarcasm helped me get through the small things that annoyed me daily, such as nurses who couldn't see that the doctor was busy and use their own initiative to block a call.

I returned to patching up the scaffolding guy when a minute later, the same nurse called out again, saying, "Frieda, it's your mother! She says it's urgent!" Mama! Of course, it was my mama. She said she would call, but I didn't think she would call the hospital phone and it could not have come at a worse time.

I turned annoyed to the nurse brandishing the phone at me, and brandished my own gloved hands, which were now red with blood, at her, and said, "I am sorry," I hesitated while I glanced at her name tag, "Josephine Briers, but you can see that I am very _busy_...now, as much as I love my dear mama, if I don't do the job which pays for my mama's car, my patient," I gestured at the pale man lying in front of me, "you see this man, here, is going to die." I took a breath, "So, please tell my mama that her amazing, talented, gifted doctor of a daughter will call back later!"

The day continued with the same level of stress and urgent cases, so by the time I could sit down and dial my number in Kiev, it was already late.

My mother was so happy that I called her back that she spent the first few minutes on the phone just shouting, "Frieda, Frieda, oh, Frieda!" which I was delighted to hear at first, but after a few minutes, I was becoming bored. She gave the phone to my older sister, Sonaya because apparently she had some news. I thought she must have passed some exam or gotten promoted or something like that. So, when I heard that she was getting married in only a month, I sat up in the chair, which at Holby meant that I nearly fell off it.

I asked her in Ukrainian if she was serious and said it was so soon, but before she could reply, my mama had already reclaimed the handset. My mama told me that while I had leave over Easter, I would come back in April for my older sister's wedding. She said that I would not come alone, though.

When I heard this, I became agitated, as my mother had been trying to make my match for years, as she had with my sister also, but that clearly had worked so my mama could now focus on finding me a man, but it sounded like she already had someone in mind...I knew I was not going to like this.

Once the conversation was over and she had told me who she wanted me to bring to my sister's wedding, I was in shock! Michael, Michael Spence – I do not think so! No way was I inviting him of all people home over Easter – I would rather ask scaffolding man and he would have to be in a wheelchair and on a drip the whole time. My mother had called him 'that nice American doctor', which annoyed me, as other than calling him an American, my mother was way off the mark.

Sure, I liked, even respected Mr. Spence, but he chased after girls half his age, like that awful Lulu girl and he got into trouble because that plastics thing about the dodgy implants had gone down, just before he came to Kiev. Would I ever use the word 'nice' to describe Michael Spence? On some days...I suppose.

Speak of the Devil, he's just walked into AAU when he was supposed to be here all day but instead he went to hide in HolbyCare. Typical! He saw me sitting at the nurse's station, "Hey, Petrenko, what'd I miss?" he asked in his annoying Florida accent.

I glared at him fiercely through my heavily kohled eyes but smiled at him, "Oh, nothing much, just about ten people who thanks to me did not die on my ward and Mr. Hemingway and Eddi were gone most of the day, so you guys all owe me big time for covering for your collective asses."

He smiled at my use of his phrase, and raised his hands batting me down, "All right, Petrenko, all right. So, you did good today and you're right, we do owe you big time, so drinks on me at the bar in...half an hour?" He sighed, looking unusually bothered, when usually he swanned about the place with a happy go lucky, arrogant as hell attitude, "To be honest, I could sure use a drink right now."

I frowned, "Why? What is the problem?"

He let out a frustrated groan, "Ugh...it's my ex-wife, who not only gets £3000 in maintenance from me but never lets me see my kids. Ric sees them more than I do, for Christ's sakes! Now, they were meant to spend Easter with me, but Annaliese has decided to take them with her to New Zealand for her conference instead!"

I felt sorry for the guy. The entire hospital knew about his wife and Ric Griffin and how Michael never saw his kids, but I did feel bad that he had to spend his holiday alone, as he would probably drink it away, so I did something I wouldn't have predicted in a million years.

"Hey," Michael looked up from the paperwork he was skimming through on the desk, "My mama called today and she remembers you – the 'nice American doctor' – and she said she wanted me to ask you if you would like to come back to Kiev with me." I cautiously looked at him, wondering what his answer would be.

"Petrenko...you serious, or are you making this up cos you feel sorry for me?" he asked, always hesitant to believe that someone wanted to help.

I shook my head, "No, she honestly wants you to come, see, my older sister is getting married, so she would like you to be...the guest of honour." I knew that would appeal to his conceited side, and in an instant I could see his answer, transparent on his face.

With a charismatic smile, he asked, "When do we leave?"


	2. Unexpected Kindness

**Chapter 2 – Unexpected Kindness**

Once Michael and I landed at Kiev airport and had reclaimed our baggage, we left and I left Michael alone for a moment with our bags while I went in search of my sister and brother-in-law to be. Michael had been quiet during the flight, but once the bitter, wintry air, which he remembered all too well, smacked him in the face again, he began to complain loudly, once more under the impression that no one anywhere could ever bring warm enough clothes for "somewhere in Siberia", as he had put it.

Michael grimaced at the memory of his last visit to this strange and alien country. He was particularly haunted by the recollection of the dismal hotel room he had shared with Elliott. He was probably going to get shoved into a similar room on this occasion, but for my sake, he decided he would not kick up the fuss he had with Elliott, but then again, that was _Elliott_!

Michael saw me attract his attention with a wave as I led my sister and her fiancé over to where he stood. I introduced them to Michael, carefully making sure I stressed that he was my colleague and a friend, nothing more. "Michael, this is my sister, Sonaya," he shook her hand with his charming smile already working its magic, "Congratulations on your engagement," he looked at the burly and very imposing man who stood at my sister's side and added, "both of you."

I then waved my hand in the direction of Sonaya's fiancé and said, "And this is Doctor Niklaus Zadorozhny." I knew Michael would have no problem starting a conversation up with Niklaus once he found out he was a doctor and when he eventually discovered what sort of doctor, there would be no separating them, but I was going to see how long it took my friend to deduce what specialism Niklaus had chosen.

"Ah, a doctor," Michael predictably affirmed. Niklaus replied shortly, "Yes." Michael could sense that Niklaus was not going to discuss his career with ease, but he persisted, asking, "So, Niklaus, do you know, erm..." Michael began to wave his arm erratically at me.

I shrugged at him, having not paid enough attention to their conversation. Michael looked at me exasperated, and asked impatiently, "Frieda, the name of that other doctor, your old hospital chum, the one with the dying husband...what was it?"

"Ah! Nadia Tereschenko."

Michael snapped his fingers, "Yes, Tereschenko, that was the one." Michael looked at Niklaus expectant of an answer to his question.

Niklaus told Michael that he did know Nadia, very well in fact, which I knew, seeing as Nadia was Niklaus' sister, which he did not let on to Michael, but I wanted to see how Michael fared in Kiev this time as I did not see his arrival when he last visited. I wanted to see how his keen perception was affected by being with strangers, who did not know him as well as I did, and by not being told of the relationships between everyone, but having to reason who meant what to whom...I was merely curious, out of friendship.

Sonaya and I walked ahead of the men, with our arms linked like we used to when we were girls coming home from school. Niklaus had kindly offered to pull my case and he fell into stride beside Michael. The plan was for us all to go to mama's house and then after dinner, I was to take Michael to his hotel. Sonaya seemed so different since papa's funeral. I had seen her briefly, when I returned when Lev was sick, but she had been away travelling with Niklaus.

I had been contemplating something related to her wedding and I now felt in her presence, which seemed so altered from the way she used to be around me, that I felt forced to ask her about what was on my mind.

"Sonaya...?"

"Yes, Frieda," she replied gently, prompting me to continue.

I was hesitant though, as what I was about to imply was a big question and if I was mistaken, then she would be disappointed with me. So I cautiously led with the question, "Why have you and Niklaus had such a short engagement? You are being very immediate to marry him, no?"

Sonaya did stop walking and turn to look at me with grave eyes and she said, "Frieda, we've been close for a long time," she looked down at her feet. "and, I know what thoughts are going through that brilliant medical mind of yours, but do you really think that I would not tell you such a thing, had it happened, myself, before bringing you home for a speedy, last minute wedding?"

I laughed as the idea that my sister might be pregnant seemed ridiculous to me now, "All right, I'm sorry, I believe you," We laughed together all the way home and when we reached our small, but cosy house, mama was standing on the porch, waiting to give me a bear hug and welcome me back home. Michael also received a typical mama Petrenko hug, he'd not expected one the first time he came to my house, but this time he braced himself to have all the wind knocked out of him by mama's tight embrace.

After Michael had reacquainted himself with my mother, Derzhka, he had the good fortune to be seated next to her for supper. My mother made no secret of the fact that she adored Michael, boasting to the members of the Zadorozhny family, who were eager to meet their future daughter-in-law's sister and her American friend, about the operation Michael and I had done on the little boy, Mischa, whom Nadia had adopted after the operation.

It goes without saying that Nadia's parents were aware of Mischa's link to Michael but nevertheless, Michael was here at my mama's invitation, so she was proud to have such a prestigious doctor eating her Vareniki dumplings and actually _enjoying _them to my great surprise! During the meal, Michael was exceedingly polite and joined in the conversations that were spread round the table. Even though Niklaus' family had in turn been talking a lot about his surgical career, Michael still had not got the answer out of Niklaus concerning his area of expertise.

As the night sky over Kiev grew darker and the time came for the Zadorozhny guests to take their leave, Michael let out a long, tired yawn. Mama and Sonaya giggled and mama said to him, "Mr. Spence, I think you also in need of your bed, yes? You are tired...Frieda will take you." She inclined her head, instructing me with a gesture to show Michael to his hotel, and I replied in the same way. "Come on then, Michael. You're hotel waits..." I grandly gestured to the door, the way a fancy hotel usher might have done for rich guests at the Ritz.

He looked at me with his "are you serious?" look but I laughed it off and beckoned him out of the door, once more into the cold, Ukrainian night. We walked in silence for a few minutes but then I was intrigued to know what exactly he had learned about who came to dinner and just how interested _he_ was in my family, so I asked him, "Michael, what did you think about Doctor Zadorozhny?"

Michael pondered the question for a moment and then replied, "He is very quiet, calm, collected and he does not betray a single personal emotion. The guy must be dynamite in theatre." He looked at me, "You're sister's a lucky woman. I should think he's going up in his field."

I laughed at Michael's lack of actual information, which he could have found out, had he wanted to, but he still felt a bit shy in the presence of all my mad, Ukrainian family.

"Petrenko, what are you laughing at?" He asked indignantly.

"Nothing, nothing," I wheezed out between gasps for breath, I was laughing so hard. Oh, when he found out, he was going to be so mad at me, but it would be so worth it, just to see his face.

We were in the main square of Kiev, where all of the smart, business hotels were, like the ones Michael usually stayed in. With a sideways glance at his expression, I saw the incomprehension and bewilderment at our location.

He grasped me firmly by the arm, stopping me in my tracks, and asked, "What are we doing here?"

I chuckled softly, and gestured at the Premier Palace Hotel, which loomed over us and said succinctly, "This is your hotel. It is satisfactory, no?"

He looked from the imposing building to me and back again, repeating the process as he tried to understand what had happened. "Wait a second, how come I'm staying in this place? It's much grander than the B&B I had with Elliott."

I was shocked by Michael's resistance to his hotel. I had expected him to be happy and maybe punch the air and shout, "Yes!" but not to ask questions. I was growing impatient, as I wanted to go home, "Is there a problem? Should I tell the manager you are not pleased and we can go find that other dump with another old man with angina who can warm your bed at night? Huh?" Michael had really brought out my defensive side, probably accidentally; then again he always made me either angry or incredibly sad.

"No, Frieda, sorry, believe me I'm not trying to be rude here," he shuffled awkwardly, but I gestured for him to continue, "but how on earth did any of you guys here afford to pay for me to stay here along with a wedding? I mean, I didn't think your family was rich..."

I smiled, slightly glad that his hesitation was because he felt concern and uneasy at someone else being put out on his account. I decided to set him straight though, and show him how much it meant to the Petrenko family, who did not have a man to give Sonaya away – not that we were expecting him to do that...were we? I was getting sidetracked, but I should probably ask my mama about that – that Michael had come to the eldest daughter's wedding to a famous and successful surgeon.

"Michael, it was mostly the Zadorozhny family and my mother a little bit who booked this hotel for you. My mother remembered you joking last year about sharing a horrible room with Elliott and she could not have had the main male guest on our side of the family staying in a dirty, dank hotel. The Zadorozhny family are a wealthy and successful family in Kiev, so they have paid for most of the wedding costs. Money does not matter to them, because they have so much of it..." my tone had changed from reassuring to bitter at the Zadorozhny's flaunted wealth, even though as a family I respected them and I thought very highly of Niklaus.

Michael sighed loudly, "Well, I can't let them do that, as kind as it is and as much as I sincerely appreciate it, I am quite capable of footing my own bill. I am not here for any of them; I'm here, as _your_ friend." Michael took a great wad of cash out of his wallet, and in the middle of the square! Bozhe miy̆!

"Michael, put that away, what the hell do you think you're doing? That's a lot of cash! You're going to get mugged. I cannot and I will not allow you to insult my mama so badly or my sister's future family by letting you offer them money for your hotel! They wanted to do it; otherwise they wouldn't have done it. So, please, Michael, as _my friend_, let it go." I looked pleadingly into his face, but frowned when I noticed his eyes were occupied somewhere else. I followed their gaze and I saw that they were peering at my own hands holding his, trying to conceal the wad of cash in his hands, but I had not even realised I was clutching his hands.

I swiftly returned my hands to the handle of his suitcase and after clearing my throat, mumbled, "Come on, I want to go home," As I dumped the bag with one of the porters, I turned, anxious to leave as if it was the scene of a drug deal, but Michael saw and ran after me, "Frieda, wait. Listen, I'm sorry, ok, if I was rude, I didn't mean any disrespect to anyone." I tried to make a break for it, "Hold on a minute. Please, thank your mama for me and the Doctor's family. I am ever grateful for their kindness, especially as I had no idea it was coming..."


	3. Frieda's Metamorphosis

**Author's Note:** Just a little puzzle for all you die hard Holby fans reading this chapter – there is a mini shout out to the newest Holby couple, Luc and Eddie. I almost didn't use it but it fit so neatly in the moment that I couldn't not, so if you manage to find it, you're a true Holby fanatic! Please R&R, as feedback is so important to me xox

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**Chapter 3 – Frieda's Metamorphosis**

When I met Michael the next morning, he seemed happier; the good night's sleep in the luxurious hotel had clearly been worth every penny. He had a fresh suit on, always so smartly dressed when everything was good and life was worth living, but when life tossed him a curveball, it was obvious to everyone, as he would come in with uncombed hair, an unshaven beard, his unironed shirt escaping from his trousers and sometimes, some of the nurses in the ED used to say that once, around the time when plastics was circling the u-bend, he even came into work with no underwear on and wearing a pair of trousers, which – how to put it – did not quite fulfil their end of the bargain…

I looked him up and down, and thought secretly to myself that he actually could be a very attractive man, when he wanted to be, that is. It suddenly struck me how creepy we were going to look walking around Kiev together, him in his designer, probably Italian suit, me dressed in my usual black, leather goods with dark eyeliner and my darkest red lipstick. At least, for once, where we were going, he was the one who would look out of place, not me. I smiled at this realisation, mostly, because I hadn't told him where we were going for our little tour around Kiev. I was taking him through one of Frieda's typical shopping excursions and he was going to hate it, but I was going to have fun watching him hate it, so it would be a good day.

"Good morning, Petrenko," he said in a good mood as he sidled down the marble stairs. "Good morning, Mr. Spence, and how did you sleep?"

He grinned at me mischievously, "Ok, Frieda, enough with the Mr. Spence crap; we're not at Holby, why yesterday, you sounded perfectly at ease calling me Michael."

I smiled back and retorted, "Yes, well you just sounded perfectly at ease calling me Frieda just now," and I gave him a playful wink.

He chuckled, "Ok, it's a deal – I won't call you Petrenko and you can't call me Mr. Spence. Deal?" he extended his hand. I took it and shook it firmly, "Deal."

He clapped his hands, raring to go, "So Pet-, sorry, Frieda, what are we doing today?"

I smiled with an evil glint in my eye, which he saw and said, "Oh, God! What have you done, organised for me to be thrown into the river? Fed to fat old men?"

"Ha! I'm going to show you what it's like to be Frieda," I said, in a more serious and feeling tone than I had intended.

He also noticed the change in my tone, but seeing my confusion at it, he let it go. "All right, then, lead where you will, Frieda, I am only going to follow you today." He said mockingly.

We walked for fifteen minutes just passing the time casually chatting, not about anything in particular, just oddities we saw as we walked down the old fashioned, but still picturesque streets of Kiev. I felt strange suddenly in Michael's company, like we had known each other since childhood, but I had only known Michael for a couple of years and it was insane of me to feel this way around him. I had been born and bred in Kiev, but now, just wandering round its beautiful narrow streets, I only just saw the true beauty of it and I knew, but would not admit to myself, that the world seemed brighter because I was in Kiev with Michael Spence.

After a while, he asked, "Frieda, where the hell are we walking to?" I laughed at the typical reaction from him – always aimed at the goal rather than enjoying the journey to reach it.

"Don't panic, we are almost there." I saw why he had become instantly agitated. We had just got to Goth Central in Kiev, so all the streets became darker, narrower, almost like alleyways and there were young men and women smoking round every corner even though it was the middle of the day. I did wonder for a second whether I should have brought Michael here with me, but I dismissed my anxieties, nothing would happen and he got to experience "A Day in the Life of Frieda" – a once in a lifetime opportunity and honour.

I saw the shop where I bought all of my gothic attire and said brightly, "Ah, here we are, see, not too frightening." I smiled easily and went in, greeting the shopkeeper, who knew me well in Ukrainian. I explained that Michael was a friend from America who had come for my sister's wedding and the shopkeeper and the assistant examined his clothing in awe. I went to browse and told Michael he could look around too.

I watched him occasionally for a moment behind racks of black, velvety clothes, seeing how he examined the unusual and bizarre items which were on the shelves, from time to time uttering a mild expletive in horror that there actually was a market for some of the implements on show.

I found a black, leather and lace top which I liked, so I went to try it on, leaving Michael on his own in the shop. The assistant had come into the back with me, telling me that the top was difficult for some people to get on by themselves, so she offered to help. She wasn't wrong. The high leather corset had a zipper up the back, which needed to be done up, but because of the leather which had warped with heat, the zip would not work. We struggled together for a few minutes, with the zip going up only a little bit at a time, now, regardless of whether the zip did eventually function, I was not interested in buying the item.

Just as I had the words instructing her to give up on the tip of my tongue, I felt a sharp, keen pain on the back of my head and in the shock of the moment, I screamed.

Michael and probably half the damn street heard, but he said under his breath, "Frieda." and came at once round the back of the shop, where he found the apologetic, sobbing shop assistant, bawling in Ukrainian he didn't understand, the shopkeeper, who had also come running, alternating between berating the girl and profusely asking for my forgiveness. Michael just looked at me and laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation and his laugh was so infectious that soon we were all laughing.

"Michael, I'm going to try and get out of this top, hopefully with no more melodrama, so if you wouldn't mind?" I nodded towards the main shop, indicating he should give me some privacy, but as I turned around, I felt his hand on the skin at the top of my back. "Michael, wha-"

He would not let me finish, he just said, "Frieda, you're bleeding. Ask the woman for a plaster." I did as I was told and I let him push me gently into a chair, so he could access my small cut from where the zip had caught my skin, to tend to it. Michael had never had to fix me up before, so I had never felt or realized how gentle and soothing his hands were while they worked their magic of healing.

Soon, the mini-disaster was aborted and we finally left the shop, which Michael had affectionately called "The Little Shop of Horrors". Actually, I was a fan of the more gothic kinds of show, so I asked him, "So, 'Rocky Horror' next?"

He said, "No thanks, not a chance." He did however stop and just look at me intently as if he was giving me a physical and I was wearing nothing before him and it made me feel uncomfortable. "Michael, why are you staring at me like that?"

He hesitated before replying, "Thinking…" he paced around me. I wasn't even sure he even remembered I was there with him, confused at what appeared to be a sudden nervous collapse. "No…yes…maybe…possibly," he gave me one absorbed glimpse, before walking back over to me. He then asked me the single most random question I think I've ever heard!

"Frieda, have you ever seen 'The Devil Wears Prada'?" I don't know what scared me more then, the fact that he had just asked me whether had seen a film that I probably wouldn't let people on the same road as me watch or that it was a genuinely serious question.

"No, I have never seen the film. Why?"

"Ok, good...ah! What about 'St. Trinian's', the new one, you know with Colin Firth in it?" I shook my head, "Ok, then, have you watched 'The Princess Diaries'?" I stopped him right there, he was making fun of me.

"Michael, why have you suddenly gone from being a level-headed, almost sane man to a thirteen year old girl who only wants pink clothes and rubbish films?" I asked, entirely serious myself.

He instinctively grasped my hand tightly in his, not permitting me to delay anymore or ask him any more questions and pulled me back the way we came, leaving Goth Central behind and headed towards the popular shopping district of Kiev. "Michael, stop!" He ignored me, "Where are we going?"

Without turning to face me, just making a beeline for the livelier side of town, he shouted, "Experiment." Now I was positive he was having some kind of mid-life crisis where in a second he had lost all rational thought.

"What experiment?" I bellowed at the top of my voice. He said nothing, only laughed, almost wickedly.

I quickly glanced around me at the shops we were passing – Prada, Yves Saint-Laurent, Chanel and more shops which catered to the handful of Ukrainians who could afford the luxuries. Finally, Michael slowed up as we entered the pristine glass doors of…_Gucci_? "Michael, why are we here? Is this some kind of joke or stab at my clothes?"

He shook his head and finally faced me and said, "I'm doing you a favour, Frieda, so don't be a child about it, just shut up for once in your God damn life and do as you're told!" He winked at me after railing at me, but of course, only in jest.

A smartly outfitted sales person approached and once she had cast her judging eyes over me, she smiled at Michael, revealing her whitened teeth, and having heard us speaking in English, said, "Good day, sir, how may I be of assistance? May I take your jacket?"

Michael gave her his jacket and then shamelessly asked for a bottle of champagne, stressing to the woman that because we were going to be in the store for _a long time_, inclining his head towards me, he especially would require the refreshment. When he told her that this was not going to be a passing visit, my jaw dropped and I leaned over to where he was now laid back on their sofa, happily holding his glass of what would be the very best of champagnes and asked him what we were going to do for so long in a shop like this.

He merely smiled his cool and laid back grin and said, "Frieda, Frieda, Frieda," patting my knee as he chanted my name, "this is just my little experiment in return for offering to spend the day with me. You said you wanted to go shopping, well, my idea of shopping and yours differ, and you've tried yours a million times and now, I've tried yours and I don't like it, so you're going to shop Michael Spence style, " with that he winked and took another gulp of champagne.

While Michael was having a smashing time getting drunk on very dear champagne, I slouched back into the sofa and exhaled loudly. Then, a stunning woman who could have very well been a supermodel descended the stairs gracefully and brushing her hair back flirtatiously, went up to Michael, sat herself elegantly on the arm of the sofa, crossing her legs, which the thigh high slit in her skirt revealed to be equally striking.

I nearly let out a guffaw when Michael nearly choked on his champagne when she said in a seductive voice, "So, sir, what do you need today?"

Michael cleared his throat and awkwardly shifted on the sofa – good thing he didn't choose skinny jeans or he would have been in a spot of trouble. "Well, first of all, darling, what's your name?" Straightaway, the Spence charm activated at the sight of a beautiful woman, it was so typical it was almost cliché. I rolled my eyes at his obscene behavior and clutched my head in my hands, waiting for all this to pass.

"Well, Blanca, that is a beautiful name. This is Frieda, here," he gestured at me, and but I refused to show my face so just waved my hand dejectedly at her, he continued, "and I would like you to take her upstairs for as long as it takes – do makeup, clothes, shoes, the whole lot and then once you've managed do – what's a good word – 'degoth' her, then bring her back down."

Hearing his plans for me I sat bolt upright, "But Mi-" but he wiggled his index finger at me and said, "No buts, Frieda, this is my experiment and we have to see it through for science," he said, nodding at me, coaxing me towards Blanca like a child at the dentist.

"Yeah, yeah, for science," I made a gimmicky face at him and as Blanca directed me up the stairs, I murmured, "whatever."

I was up there for hours, putting on this dress, putting on this top then Blanca telling me something about my figure that couldn't have cared less about. Surely, Michael wanted to leave this place as well now, he must have been bored out of his mind, just sitting there waiting for me to descend what he wanted to know as a different Frieda or not.

I felt relieved when Blanca said cheerfully after taking off and boxing an elegant pair of black wedges, "Right that's all done." I let out a sigh, but it seemed too soon, as she then said, "Now…onto makeup and hair."

At the last word, I had reached my final ticket, to hell with Michael Spence's "Let's Make Frieda a Guinea Pig" moment, nothing and no one could make me change my hair! As Blanca began to fiddle and remove my dyed hair extensions, I began to curse at her in Ukrainian calling her things from a "blonde bimbo" right up to a "painted, brain-dead, idiotic, pathetic daughter of a yak". Michael heard my tirade, not having a clue what I was really saying, but he got the gist and shouted upstairs, "_My_ experiment, Frieda, so stop making an ass out of yourself and just let her 'degoth' you, please!" I retorted saying he could go to hell for all I cared. What kind of a megalomaniac does this? Then again, what kind of pushover lets him…Frieda, now you've gotten yourself into a _spot of trouble_.

While I had been caught up in my own thoughts and broodings, Blanca quickly had the beauty technician and hairstylist in to just basically, nothing too major, which I wouldn't be able to change myself, redo my hair so it just fell naturally in waves down to just above my shoulders and the makeup artist had removed the dark black kohl and the blood red lipstick and my ashen white foundation and replaced them with light browns and my lips were now a natural, pastel nude shade and understated. My cheekbones were highlighted with a light touch of pink, a colour, which had been absent from my face probably since the day I was born.

That was only my head. As I took in my own reflection in the floor-length mirror, before I went downstairs to actually prove Michael right because I did feel different in myself, I felt happier and less gloomy, but I _liked_ feeling gloomy, it had grown on me. I would love to see my mama's face when she saw me dressed like this, as she always used to harp on at me during school about why I had to make myself look ugly, but I knew that if I made myself look ugly, no boy could ever tell me I was without my making him, so I was safe. I probably had to take this stuff off and return it after Michael had examined me in my new satin knee length teal green dress with flowers embroidered on it and my patent leather black and tan court shoes. The final touch was a simple silver chain with a circular diamond pendant that lay just above the neckline. I looked like a lady, I looked _older_.

I went downstairs, suddenly aware of the bannister and the shoes made stand up straighter and before I knew it, I was gliding down the stairs, feeling like a completely different person, the way I had when I had to take my makeup off before in front of Michael, but this time instead of feeling less confident, I felt more confident. I wondered if this was how Connie felt every time she came into work in her fashionable outfits, wouldn't have surprised me…

The sheer awe and admiration that Michael's expression betrayed as he watched me come downstairs was enough to make me smile at him and mouth a thank you to him, his reply was just a nod. He said to me, "Right, now, milady Petrenko, we're going to go and show your mama what you look like without the war paint" As we headed out the door, I asked how they let me walk out of the store with all of this still on, and Michael said, "Because it's yours."


	4. The Deal With the Devil

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who has posted a lovely review! They are great to read and are helpful in planning how I'm going to continue writing. Well done to therealmisshappy, who spotted the Eddi/Luc reference in the last chapter! Please R&R this one! xxx

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**Chapter 4 – The Deal With the Devil**

I heard him speak the words – "Because it's yours" – and I let out a surprised sigh. Michael done all this for me, I mean, the clothes and makeup I was wearing, plus the champagne and the personal shopper, must have cost him an absolute fortune! I just couldn't believe it as I stared unmoving at his face, which was now breaking into a satisfied grin.

He said cheerfully, "Well, Frieda, I think you've just helped me with my medical thesis which this experiment was testing, so it's only right that I should pay you for your work." I was still incredulous at the expense and enormity of the gift he had given me and unable to say anything that would have been anywhere near coherent.

"Besides," he said, looking me up and down, "You look…fantastic! I can't wait to see your mother's face!" Michael took the shopping bags, with Gucci emblazoned across them, from me and took my now free hand in his, tucking it in the crook of his elbow, gently pulled me away from the store homewards.

We had a quiet, but strangely not awkward, stroll home. All the way, only two thoughts were occupying my mind: one – how I was managing to negotiate the uneven cobbles of the streets in the stiletto court shoes I was wearing and two – what my mama was going to say when she saw me. I mean, I hadn't looked like this since I was a little girl, before my father got sick…

When we reached mama's house, Michael pushed open the door, which was always left open, as my mama thought there was nothing in the small house worth stealing, so why make people think that there was by always locking the door, as if you were guarding a treasure trove. I loved my mama and her strange, yet logical, way of thinking, but I was genuinely excited to hear what she thought of my new look, which I actually loved and would have liked to keep for special occasions, whilst still being the normal goth Frieda during the day…

We walked down the hallway, looking for mama and found her in the living room sitting alone, reading a Ukrainian recipe book and making notes on an old, now yellow notepad. Michael decided to walk in ahead of me, partly screening me from her, so the surprise could be more dramatic, and he greeted my mother, "Good day, Mrs Petrenko."

My mama looked up from her work and smiled with the gaps between her teeth showing, "Mr. Spence, good to see you, good to see you," her heavy Ukrainian accent saturating her words and turning them into music. She noticed a flurry of light, pastel clothes behind him and gestured to me and asked Michael, "Who is that behind you, Mr. Spence? Did you bring a guest for supper?"

Michael chortled at her ignorance, "No, Mrs Petrenko," and he stepped out of her line of sight to me, exposing my whole body.

I smiled timidly, awaiting mama's exclamation of surprise, but I did not expect what happened next. She looked at me once with a smile, but otherwise blank expression then returned her attention to Michael and taking in the bags, she said, "Ah! A surprise visit from your ex-wife, how lovely and romantic! Pleased to meet you, Mrs Spence," she got up and began to approach me.

Michael's face grew ashen as he turned to face me, the recollection of Annaliese saddening him, but the worry of my own reaction to my mother's misunderstanding was the cause of his worried expression. My reaction was a whirlwind of fast emotions that each had a millisecond to show itself on my face. I was initially taken aback, but then I was shocked that she hadn't recognized her own daughter even though I looked different, then anger washed over me and but my feelings were finally settled on absolute devastation…Tears began to shine in my eyes, soon making sad rivers, black with the traces of mascara and eyeliner, down my recently altered healthy, rosy cheeks and dripped softly onto the floor.

I slowly raised my hands to brush away the tears with newly acquired poise, when my mama spoke again in a more unnerved tone, "Why, my dear, why are you crying?" She looked at Michael for answers, but his attention had stayed on me.

He dropped the bags, didn't answer my mother's question, but walked back to me and engulfed me in his arms, giving me a warm, comforting hug as he saw the need. My mother watched the moment still unaware of what her words had done and meant, so she waited for Michael to tell me to go upstairs and change back into my everyday clothes before coming back down. I did do what Michael said, which I seemed to be doing a lot recently when I never used to, but I looked at her with hurt eyes as I left the room to go upstairs.

She looked confused at Michael, "What happened? Did I say something to upset her?"

Michael returned to face her and said in hushed tones, "Mrs Petrenko…that was Frieda." He looked into her eyes to see the disorder, surprise and understanding that dawned on her why I had fled the room. He felt sorry that he'd caused friction between mother and daughter, for it had not been his intent at all. There was clearly something there that had made my not new, but reattempted, look hit a nerve. For, just as my face had shown injury and horror at not being recognized by my own mother, so had hers displayed the ultimate shock at seeing me look as innocent and naïve as I had once looked as a girl.

My mother did not leave to try and come and comfort me. She knew I did not like it and that I preferred to deal with the problems that faced me alone, since I had been like that since my father became sick. She went over to the worn mantelpiece crowded with old and new photographs of family and friends, some dead, some alive, picked up a beautifully framed picture of a schoolgirl around the age of fourteen and silently gave it to Michael.

Michael examined it and was astonished at whose likeness it was – mine. It was the last picture that was taken of me before I had transformed, almost overnight, into a daylight vampire. I had sleek black hair that had no bright green or magenta stripes coursing through it, my olive green eyes bright and clear without the ever present sarcasm that flooded them now, my lips pink with a small smile turning them up at the corners, full of girlish charm, whereas now, my lips were seldom smiling and _never_ girlish!

Michael was astounded by the differences between the girl in the photo and the woman I was now. He could not believe such a change could occur and not simply be a phase, when I had been so full of light as a child. In his mind, Dorian Gray references were attaching themselves to me. My portrait was who I really was, but for a reason as yet unknown to him, I had done a deal with the Devil and let myself become a creature of darkness and gloom and the face I wore now was not the real Frieda Petrenko, but a façade…

His head suddenly shot up, "What happened to her?"

My mother turned back to him and said her voice full of sadness, "Her father." She was prepared to leave it at that, as my father's sickness and death was painful for her to talk about, but Michael pressed her, more interested by my story, "What about her father?"

She unwillingly went on, "Frieda's father, Stanislav, had leukemia and struggled with it for many years, until he died a few years ago." She sighed, "He fought it bravely, Mr. Spence, this whole family fought it bravely and none more so than Frieda who was fourteen when he was diagnosed. As you see," she gestured at the photo, "she used to be bright and wore summer dresses and she had _innocence_. She was an ingénue…Sonaya was older and was a broody, serious child growing up anyway, so she dealt better, but Frieda, still so young and ignorant of the ways of the world, never accepted the trials and sorrows that her dear father had to endure, so she suffered them along with him."

This being a long and arduous tale, my mother returned to her seat, "The change in her happened so suddenly, we did think it would be a phase and the impulse would go, but it never did and she's been the way she is now for many, many years, Mr. Spence." She invited Michael to sit and listen to her story comfortably. "I think she believes that if she is dressed in black, almost mourning clothes and clothes of sorrow and hurt, then no one will ever know when she truly hurts inside, because her clothes are always dreary and dark. In truth, she is a darling and sweet child, but her childhood was stolen from her unfairly, so she hides her true self beneath the blackness so that nobody can find it and take what little remains of it from her."

Michael heard the regret in my mama's voice, but was powerless to do anything to console her, except taking her bony, overworked hands in his. "Today, Frieda took me to the Goth shop but it was so awful that we left and then I took her to Gucci and she was unwilling at first, but she saw herself and suddenly, it was as if she became happier and much sweeter and obliging, whereas normally she's a right pain in the ass!" Michael shocked that he'd just said that to my mama, quickly apologized.

My mama nearly wet herself laughing, but she shook her head, "No, Mr. Spence, no apologies necessary – she is!" My mama interrupted herself with her uncontained laughter, but she soon gained control of herself and solemnly looked into Michael's eyes and said, "Mr. Spence, I have watched you and my daughter, and I can see the strong friendship between you and how much that friendship matters to both of you, and especially how she trusts you. I will tell you this – she would not have allowed anyone else to return her to how she used to look – that tells you that she let her guard down with you and trusted you enough to do it. She never trusted me or any of her other family or friends enough to unveil herself to since her father got ill, she trusted _you_." Michael took in her words, now fully aware of what he had done when he had tried out his experiment earlier.

"I'm sorry, I seem to have unwittingly opened Pandora's Box," he said, pushing the photograph back into my mother's hands.

She resisted, "Mr. Spence, you keep that…" She glimpsed at it one last time before concealing it beneath Michael's hands. "To remind you of what once was, and what nearly could have been again today."

"It's not too late…she changed today, taking off her Gothic clothes for nicer ones – she'll do it again." He said hopefully.

My mother smiled knowingly at his misdirected optimism, but shook her head, "No, now that I've ruined it and taken the joy out of feeling again how she used to, it'll be years – if ever – until she feels able to be open again." She sighed regretfully, "I can't believe I was so foolish not to recognize my own daughter. I wager you think me thoughtless to have done such a thing, but I haven't seen her dressed like that for over ten years…"

"No, I don't think that at all." Michael reassured. He was amazed that a mother had not seen that it was her own child standing before her, as he was certain he'd never not know one of his own four children were they before him in whatever disguise, but he could understand the grief and hardship Derzhka Petrenko had borne in her life, so forgave any repressed, unhappy memories she might have.

She looked upstairs, thinking about me in my room alone, consoling myself and then looked at Michael and suggested, "Mr. Spence, normally Frieda does not appreciate people going into her room and nor does she enjoy comfort or pity, but seeing as today the word _normal_ has ceased to mean anything in this house," she smiled pleasantly, "why don't you go up and see her? I'm sure you would be welcome. And please, I would ask a favour of you? Please do not tell Niklaus or Sonaya about what I have done today and please try and help Frieda, for I've hurt her in such a bad way that you might be the only one who can help her."


	5. An Accident & an Emergency

**Author's Note:** The inspiration for what happens here came to me when I watched the alternate ending to the romantic comedy, "Sweet Home Alabama" starring Reese Witherspoon & Josh Lucas. If you have not seen it, I'm sure it's available on Youtube somewhere – just made this seem like a nice bit of a mini-twist in the story, so thank you to the director of the film for including it in the extras on the DVD, or this chapter may not have been invented! NB. I make some medical conditions and theories up in this chapter but please don't tell anyone who lives in Kiev that they might die, based on what you read here! It's entirely fictional and to anyone with a medical background, or just a sensible outlook, will realise how stupid the actual theory is!

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**Chapter 5 – An Accident & an Emergency**

I was sitting in my room, surrounded by the posters of Evanescence and artistic representations of vampires. I had noticed when I entered that Sonaya had been messing with my stuff, as whenever she knew I was coming back for a visit, she played some kind of prank in here. This time the prank was obvious and very annoying. She had put up opposite my bed, a Twilight poster of the character, Edward Cullen, who I absolutely hated and she knew that. So, not only did she vandalise my room with this monstrosity – she had written on it in a silver marker "Frieda Edward!" She was going to suffer in a very real way for this!

No matter how I tried to forget about what had just happened downstairs, by changing out of my new clothes, by surveying my room, by thinking about how much I abhorred the Twilight heartthrob…I just couldn't erase my mother's inability to recognise me from my memory. I knew it had been a long time since I hadn't worn a single Gothic, black item of clothing or made up my face in my scary Frieda war paint, as Michael sometimes called it. Michael…

Michael had tried to do something nice, but as it usually did, it backfired dramatically. I wondered what he was doing now. Had he left and gone back to the hotel? But I hadn't heard the door shut. So, was he still downstairs with mama? He must be, but with a glance at the clock, I saw that it must have been at least ten minutes since I had retreated to the safety of my room. What on earth could they be talking about for such a long time?

As had been happening significantly more recently, whenever I thought of Michael, he appeared. He knocked twice quietly on my door. "Frieda?"

I was in shock. No one ever came up to my room when I was here! Ever! Had mama told him to come up, even though she knew that I hated company in my room and showing people what my room actually looked like? So, timidly I replied, "Michael? What are you doing here?"

"Your mother told me I could come up and see how you were doing. Can I come in? I'm really, _really_ sorry for what happened downstairs," I could hear the regret in his voice, even though very little responsibility for what happened was actually his, despite the fact that it was him who bought me the new attire which had made me unrecognisable to my own mother. That had made my heart very nearly break, even as I replayed the incident over and over in my head, it brought me to cruel, crocodile tears.

He knocked again, and I decided I might as well let him in. So I slowly got up and went and opened the door to see his face, kindly smiling down at me. It was a comforting, apologetic, friendly smile, which could warrant no other reaction from me than to return it, with equal warmth. I did not know why Michael's being in Kiev had turned me into some happy, sprightly girl – it was a real mystery to me!

He clasped my hands in his, peering into my eyes and said softly, "Frieda, you have to believe me when I say that I never meant any harm or trouble by what I did to you, honestly. I swear on the contents of my bank account." I giggled at this. Most people swore on their children's or mother's lives or scout's honour...not Michael Spence, for him it was always going to be his bank account and shares and profit and that would never change.

"There's that laugh I wanted." At seeing me happier, he let go of my hands and looked around at his surroundings. "So...this is the tomb of Frieda Petrenko. But where's the coffin?" He winked, reminding me of the day I met him and he teased me incessantly about my looks and sarcastic attitude, asking me if I wanted to drink blood or something...

I sarcastically retorted, "Ha ha, very funny, you should be comedian!"

I gestured for him to sit on the bed, while I took the chair at my desk. He looked at the poster of Edward Cullen, pointed and asked, "Really? You, an evil, hardcore, Count Dracula kind of vampire enthusiast," his mouth gagged as he reluctantly said the next word, "heart Edward Cullen?"

I chuckled, "No, it is Sonaya's idea of funny. I hate that guy! Vampires do not sparkle...ever!"

Michael's curious eyes drifted round the room, noticing the medical books I owned, smiling when he noticed that I owned a copy of a book he wrote on plastic surgery for burns victims. He saw the picture of Nadia Tereschenko, Lev, Katja and I standing together at a carnival, which was the day before Katja's last trip into hospital, which I had made her last trip anywhere...

"So, this is Tereschenko's daughter? The one you thought you killed? Katja was her name, wasn't it?"

My eyes betrayed how surprised I was that he'd managed to remember such a minor detail in a conversation we'd had so long ago, "Yes, that's Katja, Lev and Nadia with me."

Michael nodded but proceeded on his inspection of my room. He saw a picture of my father, but after gazing intently at it for a few minutes, said nothing and moved on. Curious behaviour, as I had been thinking about my father a lot today but had no desire to talk about him, it would have been painful, and as if he knew, he didn't ask me anything. I knew Michael was aware my father had died, but he had not been hesitant about Katja. Strange...

His eyes rested on another framed item in my bedroom – a certificate from my old high school. The script was in English, so he could understand it himself, but I began to blush as I watched his eyes dart from side to side, taking in my achievement. "You won a full scholarship to med school in the States?" he asked incredulously.

I nodded, "Yes, it was the scholarship started by Niklaus' grandfather for young people who wanted to be doctors. I applied for it when I was thirteen, as they offer it early so that if they found a candidate who was especially worthy, but could not even afford to go to enough school here, they could fund that as well. But once I turned fourteen..." I tensed as I remembered the horrendous year, "Well, I didn't want it anymore, but I still won it, so it was my fault that nobody else received it that year, but they are friends of the family, so they said once I decided I wanted it again, they would help pay for my medical tuition – they did."

"But in the States?"

"Oh, well, I decided I couldn't be that far from home, so instead they sent me to UK, to Holby City General." I smiled, "Have you heard of it?"

Michael snorted, "Now, who's being comedian?" He said, imitating my heavy accent.

I spun round on the swivel chair when he did his impression of me. I looked him in the eyes, chest still heaving from my laughter. But my smiles disappeared once I saw his heavy and sombre expression. I glanced down at the papers he was looking at and I recognised the opportunity for a bit of sinister, yet funny, payback for the heartache he had indirectly caused – a little practical joke was calling out to me...

"Frieda," he said gravely, holding up the papers, "what are these?" They were the papers I was reading for my research, which I was doing as part of my F1 studies. The papers were on the topic of immunodeficiency resulting in a high level of fatal abdominal tumours in Kiev. Michael was unsettled by them by the ticks I had put on the symptoms list, with the annotation, "Got", beside each one. I had been cross-referencing the symptoms with another list on a paper I had found online, but Michael did not know that and I was giving into the temptation of the prank by deciding not to volunteer this information now. I wanted to let him stew for a while...

"I had a test a while ago and it said my immune system was a bit off kilter, so I looked it up and found this paper and it began to make sense. So I checked the symptoms out and Mr. Griffin agreed with me about the tumour, so I've decided that it's true." I had phrased my explanation carefully, so it sounded cryptic but at the same time I was not lying to Michael, just letting him infer the correct meanings. I had had a test a while ago, but as a test subject for Niklaus' research paper which was on this theory; he had said my immune system was in keeping with his hypothesis; he had recommended that I find the paper in Michael's hand and read it. I checked the symptoms against another paper on abdominal tumours in malnourished patients and then I had asked Mr. Griffin when I was at Holby for his medical opinion on the paper and its conclusions. Mr. Griffin had agreed with my own medical judgement that there was a link, but without Niklaus' new research being verified, the proposed link between the two conditions was still tenuous. So, I reached the opinion that Niklaus' well-thought out research was conclusive and would certainly confirm that the immunodeficiency levels in Ukrainians was resulting in tumours across the board.

He flinched when I spoke, and hesitantly looked over at me and asked, "So, you're sick?"

I half nodded, "I have issues," again, leading him down the wrong avenue.

"Is there anything to be done?" I heard the beginning of desperation in his voice, which surprised me. The sheer power behind his question stunned me into silence, and I would have stopped this stupid idea then, had he not taken it further himself by misinterpreting my silence.

He came over to me and gripped my bony shoulders ferociously, "Frieda, don't worry, it'll be okay. I'll see what can be done: transplant, chemotherapy, anything..." his voice trailed off as he tried to think of solutions to my problem.

Now I saw his heartfelt distress at believing I was terminally ill, I deeply regretted starting this joke. It was entirely wrong of me and selfish and unforgivable. I took in the panicked look permeating his strong gaze into my face and suddenly burst into tears.

He brushed my hair back soothingly from my face, which was already tearstained, and wiped the tears away as they poured from my eyes. "Hush now, don't worry it will be all right."

Oh, damn him and his sweetness and his jumping to the wrong conclusions – admittedly with my help! I suddenly stood up, almost sending him flying into the bedside table and shouted, "Enough, Michael, I'm not dying!"

He was now the one lost for words, "Wha-"

I explained myself to him, not allowing him to get a word in edgewise, or I wouldn't have the stomach to finish telling him the truth and apologising profusely. When I reached the end of my awful story, I just sat down heavily on the bed and buried my face in my hands; entirely sorry for deceiving him and leading him down the road which ended in my fictional death. He still said nothing but rose from the cold floor and went to gently close the door.

He stood facing the closed door for a few moments but then turned back to look at my room with me sobbing on the bed into my hands. In one swift movement, he pulled me to stand facing him and he then gripped my face between his two strong, but soft, hands.

This unexpected closeness jolted me out of my weeping, so the room became silent. Then, he took a breath and said, "Frieda, that was _incredibly_ uncalled for and frankly, about a second ago, I was tempted to walk out of this room, slam the door behind me, check out of my hotel and get on the first plane home. But your mama and I had a chat after what happened and I now understand _everything. _I know why you changed from the innocent little girl you used to be into the dark and sarcastic person you are now, I know why you are so flippant about sickness, dying and death – because of your father and I know why you try to sabotage every single friendship you've ever had so you're only left with a few close friends who you truly trust."

* * *

"Mich-"

He placed his thumb over my still wet lips and silenced me, then removed his thumb, tracing the contours of my lips as he did. I became drawn into his eyes as we were aware of each other and the growing tension in the room. He then in a whispered and edgy voice said, "Frieda."

He waited for a reply, testing my feelings, but as I parted my lips to speak, suddenly his lips came down onto mine, covering them and pulling them apart. His hands gripped the sides of my face more intensely and my arms gripped his waist, pulling him closer as I was captured by the moment. Our passionate, reckless embrace overtook any sadness I had and changed any anger he bore toward me into enthusiasm for the kiss.

Michael forced his tongue between my lips, deepening the kiss and suddenly in a fleeting moment he span round with me and trapped me – willingly – between him and the door, his lips never leaving mine for an instant.

He tasted sweet and like exotic spices, which I had never savoured before – as before this moment, he was a piece of forbidden fruit. I felt his lips finally leave mine, red and swollen, only to begin kissing my neck as his strong, powerful arms forced mine from his waist to lie against the door, as his fingers intertwined with mine, caressing them tenderly, not allowing my hands to be without his touch for a second.

Michael's lips soon returned to assault my lips again, hungry for more...I felt the pull of the attraction between us now, as it overwhelmed me and had clearly overpowered him. As Michael and I became wrapped up in our attraction to each other that threatened to entirely consume us in just one moment, we were freed from the potential of burning out our – still as yet simple and only sexual – attraction, by the slam of the front door and mama's voice calling out, "You two coming down for some lunch?"

Michael immediately ceased his barrage of my body and just looked into my eyes and we both collapsed onto the floor, sitting straggled beside each other, Michael's hand falling down to rest on my knee, laughing absurdly at the hilarity of such a question interrupting such an ardent, passionate moment.

We did – eventually – once we had neatened ourselves up, go downstairs, being sure not to divulge any change that had taken place upstairs in our friendship lunch, as we had both sort of decided to live dangerously and indulge our need and craving for each other. Tomorrow, Michael had asked to take me out on a date...


	6. Michael & Frieda's Date

**Author's Note:** Hope you all loved the Tuesday's episode of Holby City! The accident wasn't Michael's fault but nice to see a bit of Michael and Sacha bonding . I wish the writers would get back to Eddi and Luc so I can be inspired to write some fanfiction for them!

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**Chapter 6 – Michael & Frieda's Date**

I had slept badly...yesterday afternoon's shocking events had been passing through my head like wildfire – burning passionately, coursing through every memory I had of Michael – the agony it caused was excruciating. When I woke up, I remembered that today, Michael was going to actually take me out on an official date. We had gone out together, just the two of us, before but never with any undertones of romance or suggestions of sexual attraction, as there would be when we went out later.

Michael had also refused to give away any details about what he had planned, which made me even more anxious. I had no idea how to dress – should I reattempt his experiment and wear my new clothes, or should I wear my usual Gothic clothes? It was a battle where either my desire to be appealing and feminine or my need to be confident and comfortable in myself would overcome the other and right now, I simply did not know which would prevail...

All I wanted to do today, now, was hide in my room and brood on my life, but I knew I owed it to Michael not to stand him up, so reluctantly, I pulled back the covers and swung my legs out of bed. I paced up and down my room, my red and black silk pyjamas brushing against the floor almost singing me back to sleep. Eventually, I found the resolve to get ready for the day, having decided on a fashion style, so I went to the bathroom and freshened up, ready as I ever would be to start this momentous day.

While I was applying my heavy black eyeliner – my black attire had won the battle – downstairs I heard the door slam and Michael's greeting to my mama. I was surprised when immediately I heard his heavy, fast footsteps making their way up the stairs heading for me and my bedroom. I was mortified! I wasn't ready! He couldn't come up here again! I suddenly was rushing round the room trying to complete my maquillage to appear decent for him...in my rush, I accidentally misapplied my scarlet lipstick, leaving a bright, red trail pencilled across my pale, white cheek – it looked like a trail of blood left on fresh morning snow.

"Bloody hell!" I exclaimed, loudly knocking over a formation of lipsticks onto the floor, just as Michael knocked on the door.

My timing could not have been less ideal. Michael evidently believed the sound of falling items and my curse indicated that I was hurt or in some form of trouble, so he instinctively opened the door to lend a hand. When he came in, taking in my clownish looking face and the array of lipstick tubes scattered chaotically on the floor, he looked into my cringing, ashamed face and just burst into a fit of laughter.

"Frieda," he said, trying not to resume laughing, "What the hell happened to turn you into The Joker?"

At my wide-eyed, aghast, furious expression, his self-control waned and he keeled over, clutching his sides as they heaved with loud guffaws.

"I'm sorry. Ha! I'm sorry, Frieda," his now water-coated eyes glimmered at me, "I...I just couldn't resist! You know? Vampire turned Batman super villain – absolutely priceless!"

The corners of my mouth turned up at his good humour, a side of Michael which not everyone had the opportunity to see and he infected me, wiping out the nervousness and disorder I had previously felt at the prospect of our impending (or already happening?) date. As our mutual laughter died out, we were left looking at each other tenderly, unspeaking and unmoving, just searching each other's eyes for hidden and unsaid feelings.

Michael slowly approached me, turned to my dressing table, picked up a wipe which I had been about to use and lightly brushed it across my cheek, erasing the red mark and leaving my skin bare, his soft fingers stroking my cheek with the motions. When my cheek no longer bore the sign of my now absent unrest, he laid his hand to cup my cheek and pulled me in for a long-awaited – although I had denied that profusely – tender kiss. His lips softly pressed against mine, passionate yet calm, not wanting to conquer, but to _persuade_... It had never once entered my mind before that I might hunger and actually, ache for the kisses of Michael Spence, but after only experiencing two of them, I never wanted them to stop...

He broke away after only a moment to look into the depths of my eyes, with such reserved emotion that I felt naked under his gaze. "Shall we go?"

I then tore myself from his touch and quickly applied some makeup to the noticeable nude skin on my cheek before grabbing a black purse, taking his outstretched, inviting hand and walking out of my bedroom to go on our..._date_!

When we left the house, I saw a black, polished Range Rover, which Michael had apparently hired _with a chauffeur_! My mouth opened in shock and I turned my head to look up at him and he nodded and smiled at my stunned expression. The chauffeur came round to open the door for Michael and I to get in, so as Michael let me go first I noticed the luxury of the car and I began to understand what being Michael Spence's date or girlfriend was like. It was as close to being a limousine as you could have got without actually being one.

Michael leaned close to whisper in my ear, "I remember once you said how limos were...what was the word you used..." he gripped his chin with his fingers, "chavvy?" He smiled; satisfied that he had managed to recall words I had spoken so precisely.

I nodded curtly, "Yes, they are."

The chauffeur turned around and said in a posh, British accent, "Sir, are we ready to leave?"

Michael, without his eyes leaving my face, said, "Yes, thank you."

As the car pulled away, Michael found my hand and clasped it, caressing the skin of my knuckles. "So," he said, waving his other hand round the car, "do you like it?"

I saw a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and Michael instantly poured a bubbling flute for me and then one for himself. Once he had, he looked at me directly, held up his glance and said quietly, "To us and to today..."

I smiled and chinked the edge of my glass on his and then took a small sip. The liquid was sweet and bubbly but as I swallowed it, my face scrunched up at the tickle of it running down my throat, which made Michael giggle. He then put his glass down, took mine in his hand and once he had set it down as well, unbuckled his seatbelt, then undid mine and shifted closer towards me.

I had lost the ability to speak, not that I wanted to halt his amorous advances, but it was unlike me to be lost for words...ever! It had been surprising me more and more how much I was changing because of Michael and how much I still wanted to change to make him and really, myself, happier. I, strangely in tune with him, mirrored his movements and edged closer to him. This was all the encouragement Michael required.

Michael suddenly, impulsively, powerfully seized me and pulled me over him, my legs falling to straddle him. I had not been expected such a commanding desire in him, but I met his passion and enveloped his neck with my arms, pulling him closer until almost no space remained between us. He breathed heavily, entirely consumed in the moment and brought his lips, not gentle any longer but strong with all of the ardour he had been masking, crushing down on mine. Without faltering, I allowed his tongue into my mouth to mingle with mine and I let out a charged sigh into his mouth as I felt his arms move from my arms to the small of my back and hold me more tightly against him.

Our fervent embrace continued at the same strength for the duration of the journey, until we felt the car come to a stop and we righted ourselves, not willing to reveal the manner in which we had spent the drive, as we had been shielded by the screen, which was both opaque and soundproofed, that had separated us and the chauffeur.

He came round to courteously open the door for us to get out of the car, this time Michael leading the way and then offering his hand to help me. As I stood up outside, I noticed that we were no longer in the metropolis, but we were surrounded by sunlit greenery and trees in a beautiful vale spreading out before us...I was utterly in awe of the natural beauty of the place where Michael had brought me, where I had never – to my knowledge – been before.

I turned to him, curious as to our location, "Where are we?" I asked.

Michael sniggered obviously glad that his surprise date was indeed a surprise. "Frieda, I have no idea. One: because I couldn't point it out on a map, two: because even if I could, I wouldn't be able to pronounce it." As he took a hamper that the chauffeur had retrieved from the boot and proffered, he asked, "Can't we just say it's a lovely, scenic place that I've cleverly chosen for this and leave it at that?"

His confidence never did diminish but I liked that he was bold enough to arrange things like this, so I acquiesced, "Fine, Michael," I smirked, "And you're right...it is the perfect place."

The chauffeur then drove off, leaving Michael and I alone in this secluded spot in each other's company. Michael reclaimed my hand and guided me along with him, as he – certain of where he was going – wandered through a pasture with long grass, stroking my ankles as I walked until we reached a small brook. The trickle of the stream as it meandered across the field filled the silence of the place, making it more blissful and complete. Michael then stopped and let go of my hand with a reassuring and slightly amused smile to comfort me, to set down the hamper and remove a thick, gingham blanket.

He spread the blanket across the grass and kneeling down upon it, started to lay out dishes of rich and expensive foods on the blanket. He did his task with such accuracy that I wondered if he had actually made a plan of how the spread was going to look before organising it. I smiled as I stood over the scene, watching him work, as I always loved to do at Holby when he performed surgery, but this was an entirely different sort of performance...but it had entranced and captivated me all the same.

He brought out dishes of caviar, lobster salad, Carpaccio beef, cold pasta with pesto, strawberries already dipped in a mixture of white and dark chocolate, champagne jelly and finally – the _proverbial only_ icing on the cake – he extracted a frosty, stainless steel pitcher of champagne mixed with raspberry nectar mix – a drink so pink, even Valentine's Day lovers would hesitate to drink it. But it was wonderful! Who would have thought it – Frieda Petrenko, Demon of the Night actually enjoying the sight of something pink? Just the thought made me giggle...

He finished his job, then stared up at me with flirtatious, bright eyes, extended his hand gracefully up to me, "Miss Petrenko, would you do me the _great_ honour of joining me for a picnic in a secluded meadow on a lovely day, I would be so obliged?" he winked at me.

Laughing hysterically, I eagerly took his hand in mine and allowed him to pull me down to the ground into his arms to lie against his stomach between his legs while he fed me himself from the delectable feast he had gone to so much effort to arrange. We talked, we kissed, we sat in silence just enjoying the feel of each other's skin on ours and once the food was eaten, once the drink was drunk, once the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, we both felt the fatigue from the lethargy of doing – well, nothing, all day long.

I felt disheartened, but I asked, "When is the chauffeur coming to get us?"

"He's not."

I frowned, "What? We're not staying here." It was not a question, for as delightfully surprising as today had been, I did not wish to rush into anything with Michael.

Michael chuckled gently and said with a shake of his head, "No...But can you hear that?"

I listened out for any noise other than the faint trickle of the stream and I made out the sound of a steam train that was getting closer. As Michael saw me hear it, he said, "We are having a special, _private_ mini steam train ride from a village about a mile away to get us back to Kiev."

I smiled, wholly content at the last part of our wonderful first date...


	7. An Unhappy Reunion

**Author's Note:** As much as I love the starring couple in this story of mine, they've had just a little bit too much fun, so here I go, shaking it up in a short, but I hope, shocking chapter...please R&R – love knowing what people think about my writing and I again apologise for any lack of understanding or knowledge of medical matters that I display in this chapter!

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**Chapter 7 – An Unhappy Reunion**

We walked slowly and leisurely to the small hamlet that was nearby, where the rural-looking train station berthed a beautiful, vintage train. It was black with dark, Bolshevik red paint decorating it – it looked like a train straight out of Doctor Zhivago – I could almost hear Lara's theme as I took it in…I was still unable to grasp that Michael had gone to all this trouble, especially with only a day to prepare, to make today memorable and special.

"Well…what's your opinion on it?" Michael enquired, gesturing at the sight of the steam train.

I choked up, "Michael," I quickly brushed my eyes, "It's more than I expected of you and it's exactly perfect." I leaned up and swinging my arms round his neck, planted a full kiss on his lips, which he immediately melted into. He gripped me firmly round the hips, picked me up and pressed the length of my body against him. I laughed as we eventually broke apart, "My God, if people at Holby could see me now, they would ask me what I'd done with Frieda!"

Michael heartily laughed, "So they would, but that would only be because you've become so…" he held his breath as he searched for the right word, "well, just _different_ since we've been here together."

Suddenly, my feet were encapsulating, but Michael refused to let me retreat from his statement, "Frieda, you have, and you shouldn't feel that you've not been true to your own identity because clearly," he waved at my appearance, "you're still the same person, but you're happier and carefree – in a good way!" he added as he saw my head flash up.

All I did was plant a quick peck on his cheek, wink at him and then tug him by the hand as I leapt onto the train. Michael told me that I'd have to tell the driver we wanted to leave, as he had no idea how to, even though the chauffeur had told him what to say. I sniggered at his lack of self-confidence at a new language, which was the only thing I'd ever seen him hesitate at, but I shouted out to the train driver to head on out and soon, we were en route back to Kiev.

We spent, what seemed at the time, a long few minutes wrapped in each other's arms, freely exchanging kisses, living entirely in the moments as they came and went. Neither of us spared a thought for anyone beyond the small, lavish carriage, slowly but steadily making its way back home. I did begin to feel slightly uneasy in myself, so I released myself from Michael's safe hold and went to stand at the back of the train, which was open and exposed to a delicious, exhilarating, cool breeze.

I was struggling to breathe, clearly absorbed by the moment, becoming more breathless with each of Michael's loving kisses. The free breeze had made it slightly easier, but oddly I still couldn't take a full breath of air… Suddenly, I felt light-headed and I was gasping and panting for a breath. "Mi-" I reached back for the handle back into the carriage, but my hand never even touched it…

Fortunately for me, Michael had just turned around in the instant before I called out and saw me collapse before making it back into the carriage. He immediately rose and raced outside to where I lay, chest heaving and neck arching, trying with all my might to take a breath. "Frieda!" He shouted anxiously.

"Can't…breathe!" I wheezed as I murmured in a raspy voice, staring up at him with startled eyes.

Michael quickly pulled back my top, as he laid his head to my chest, listening intently. "Ok, Frieda, I need to do an emergency tracheotomy before you lose consciousness. I'm going to have to try and make the driver understand what the hell is going on…" he slammed the floor with his hand as he contemplated what a gargantuan task that would be with such a huge language barrier.

I was still mindful enough to know that I had to help him help me, or I was going to be in serious trouble. The million dollar idea suddenly occurred to me and I, in a yet more breathless tone, wheezed at Michael, "Phone…Nadia…"

Michael let out a heavy, relieved sigh and placed a strong kiss on my forehead, thanking me for – as he would have said – "saving his ass". He removed my phone from my bag and quickly rang Nadia's private line.

An unfamiliar voice spoke something in Ukrainian, which Michael did not understand. Cursing profusely, Michael just persistently shouted down the phone, "Nadia! Tereschenko! Michael Spence! Frieda Petrenko! ENGLISH!" He did have to keep stopping to return his head to my chest to monitor the rapid deterioration of my breathing.

I faintly heard what the man was saying on the line, but now my powers of speech had gone and my consciousness was soon to follow… I felt a wash of relief as the final thing I heard was Nadia's voice on the phone to Michael. "Mr. Spence?" she asked in a staggered voice.

Michael's loud outburst of elation passed, then he said, "Nadia. I'm with Frieda on a train from some Ukrainian village to Kiev," Michael noticed as I slipped into unconsciousness and concluded that it was now too late to even contemplate leaving me to talk to some rustic train driver, "Nadia! She's just lost consciousness…I'm going to have to do a tracheotomy here, or she's going to die." Michael's voice broke as he uttered the final word. "We're going to be arriving at Kiev's main station in about ten minutes, so can you get a team together – I don't give a damn what you're doing now, you stop – and meet us at the station?"

Nadia spoke quickly to Michael, stating that she would of course drive an ambulance to meet us at the station and then she would herself treat me at the hospital where we both had once worked and held so many memories…

Michael successfully performed the minor procedure, which became major as he did it spectacularly well in a foreign country with no help, on a moving train. Nadia met him, as he carried my limp body off the train and placed it on the gurney. Then we were swiftly put on the road to the hospital. Michael did not let go of my hand – not once…


	8. Secrets & Lies

**Chapter 8 – Secrets & Lies**

I opened my eyes, but immediately they reacted to the bright, white lights that were around me. I felt a pair of strong hands gently stroking mine, which when I opened my eyes gripped tightly, unwilling to let go…

"Frieda, thank God!" Michael said, moving to sit beside me on the bed, stroking my hair away from my face.

"Michael," I said breathlessly, "What happened?" I had been intending to ask him a plethora of questions at once, but he cut me off quickly.

Michael hushed me by pressing his thumb gently on my lips, "Shhh…it's all right now. Frieda, you collapsed on the train and I had to do a tracheotomy _on the train_. Do you remember?" I nodded in response, so he continued, "I called Nadia and she brought a paramedic team to bring you to the hospital. She had to perform exploratory surgery on your respiratory system." Michael looked about him, searching for Nadia. "She hasn't said anything though. We've just waited for you to regain consciousness."

I smiled at him, "I'm sorry I ruined our date." I gave his hand a reassuring, apologetic squeeze. But I frowned, "Does mama know?"

Michael shook his head and replied, "No. I told Nadia that you should decide (that I wouldn't for you) when – or whether – to tell your family. So, no one knows you're here," he smiled more happily, "except me."

"I'm glad you're here, Michael."

He said nothing at that, only looking at me keenly and with a plentitude of emotion with those beautiful brown eyes of his. He leant down until his face was only just not resting on mine, laying his hand on the side of my face, and kissed me softly on the lips. We remained that way for a couple of minutes, before he drew back and told me, "I'm going to go get Nadia."

While he was gone, I had the chance to reflect on what had happened to me. Now that Michael had jolted my memory, I remembered exactly how I had felt when I left the carriage to try and get some air and how breathless I felt. It seemed odd to me, since I had no history of experiencing shortness of breath or inability to breathe, that I had had this episode. How lucky – or unlucky – I was that Michael, a reputable and highly-regarded surgeon, had been around to perform a life-saving operation on me in my hour of need.

I was glad that, knowing me and what I would want, he'd said that no one should contact my family without my express permission. I didn't want to interrupt their wedding planning or make them anxious over what would..._probably_…be nothing. Anyway, there was no point brooding on this until I knew for certain after talking to Nadia.

Soon enough, Michael reentered the ward, followed closely by Nadia. Upon seeing me awake and smiling, her face twisted and only I could see it. I knew that whatever news was coming my way, it wasn't going to be good…crap!

Michael reclaimed his place on the side of my bed where he immediately grasped my hand and turned to face Nadia, asking, "So? What have you got?"

In the moment Nadia took to hesitate, a wealth of thoughts and questions passed through my brain. What had she found? Was it really _that_ bad? What was I going to do? What was Michael going to do? _Michael_! We'd just begun; it couldn't be over so soon… What was my family going to say? Sonaya's wedding. Should I even tell my family whatever Nadia was about to tell me? Should I let Michael stay and hear it with me? I wanted him with me but was that selfish? I ought to tell him to let me hear the news on my own first, before – or if – I chose to disclose any of it to him.

"Michael, will you just step outside for a moment, please?" I asked quickly and sharply before Nadia could utter a word.

The hurt and confusion that washed across his face bit at my resolve but I had to do this. He gave me a curt nod, released my hands, leaving them lonely and empty and walked out of the ward.

Nadia gave me a kind smile, understanding what I had just done and why. "Thank you, Frieda. I did not know what to say in front of him…"

I shook my head, "I know." And showing that I had registered her earlier sign of distress, I said, "He doesn't take bad news well."

Nadia slowly nodded. She sighed, "Frieda," her voice broke and she was almost in tears.

"Nadia, we have been friends for a long time, so please," I looked at her with pleading, scared eyes, "just tell me."

Nadia was gripping her clipboard with both hands, her knuckles turning white. I watched her as her eyes darted about. She was searching for something to say. "You know, Mischa never stops asking about Michael…he'd love to see him while he's here, if that's ok?"

I began to glare at her, disappointed that she'd avoided the subject of what was wrong with me, "Nadia! Be a doctor and just spit out what's wrong with me, please?"

She flinched at my angry tone, but looking down at the floor began to dejectedly nod, "Sorry, Frieda, but it's bad news and I'm your friend and no friend should ever have to be the bringer of such bad news!"

I nodded but kept my silence and waited for her to carry on.

"Frieda, you have advanced stage three lung cancer. It is too progressed to treat and you don't have long…a couple of weeks tops," she sighed heavily, looking up at me, "it's a miracle you've not been experiencing symptoms before yesterday, but then again, you're so skinny that I doubt you'd notice weight loss and as a doctor, you're fatigued most of the time. Yesterday, Mr. Spence said you had spent a lot of time outside in a grassy area, so I think your condition was exacerbated by a slight hay fever reaction, which caused you to become dyspneic and your lungs couldn't cope."

I nodded in understanding. I came across patients, dying patients like myself, who lived life to the full until out of the blue something went wrong and they were admitted to hospital and then told that their life would soon be at an end. I had comforted them and provided palliative care but now I was the patient, all of it felt so surreal. I had to make some decisions…and make them quickly!

"Nadia, I don't want my parents to be told where or how I am and I do not want Sonaya's wedding to be interrupted on any account, so," I looked at her intently, "you will not tell Niklaus – or anyone else – about this. You will also not tell Michael _anything_. I am going to tell him I've got to stay here for a while because you want to run more tests, but you are not to tell him I'm dying."

Nadia looked shocked at my choices, but she nodded nevertheless, writing my wishes down in my notes. I knew it would be incredibly difficult going home tonight, seeing her brother and possibly Sonaya and not being able to tell them that I was in dire straits in hospital but she said sadly, "As you wish, Frieda."

I nodded briskly, "Will you ask Michael to come back in?" She turned to go, but something occurred to me so I stopped her, "And if he asks you anything, just say I want to talk to him."

She left and almost as soon as she went through the door, Michael came back in, looking worried and anxious for me. I did my utmost to smile at him as if I wasn't scared or nervous or any of the other emotions I was feeling.

"So? What did Nadia say…she wouldn't tell me anything?"

I shrugged off his concerns, saying "Oh, she just wants to run some more tests. Michael, I need you to call my parents and tell them that I'm staying at your hotel," I peered into his eyes, as I revealed the plan I had devised while listening to Nadia, "I don't want them to know I'm in hospital and I do not want Sonaya's wedding plans affected because I'm in here, so please just call them to say I'm staying with you and that I'm fine, but that you're going to go and get some of my clothes." My sullen, serious expression changed as the corners of my mouth turned up into a soft smile, "You can even bring the new ones."

Michael looked understanding, seeing that all I was trying to do was cause minimal worry and upset, but under that, I could see the alarm and distrust in his eyes. He knew the well-known subterfuge of "more tests" always masked some underlying suspicion of a serious medical issue. "Frieda, I don't want to lie to your family, but if you need me to, I'll do it for you." He said, holding my hand reassuringly and sitting down beside me again. With a sigh, he asked, "What's the number?" taking out his phone.

I gave it to him and listened and watched as he called my mama and deceived her with flair and spun her the story I had narrated to him. I had to mouth the word "clothes" at him, so he added onto the end of his deception, the news that he would go to my mama's house later to get some clothes for me while I was having a spa day (made up by Michael himself foreseeing my absence in proceedings as a problem). Good thing he was such an experienced and brilliant liar…


	9. Epiphany

**Author's Note:** This is a momentous chapter in the story and I loved writing it. I hope it reads well! Just a bit of mush really after the gloomy path the story began to take...Please R&R – desperate to know your opinions.

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**Chapter 9 – Epiphany**

I was still lying in the same bed, in the same ward, in the same hospital as I had been three days ago... Everything was the same. Nadia was taking extremely good care of me, not that I expected she wouldn't, Michael had spent almost every waking moment at my bedside without knowing my diagnosis, none of my family had a clue where I really was – they still believed I was on a spa vacation. But, I knew my time to keep secrets and to hide the truth was running out fast and I needed to think of something to do.

A new day was just dawning, I could see the sun start to shine over the world through the musty window and I thought it was divine, nature's way of telling me to begin again. I had never been amazed by sunrise or any such event, probably because I had never been dying before now, but since Nadia told me the news, each small miracle of nature had seemed the most wonderful and beautiful thing on earth. I thought about what I would have been doing had I not been lying in the hospital at this time and as I closed my eyes to imagine and dream, I pictured myself in the on-call room at Holby, just waking up to a brand new day on AAU and finding my makeup bag to begin my daily ritual.

To please Michael, I had started wearing the clothes he had bought me from Gucci – only the nightdresses, mind – but they were the most gorgeous nightclothes I had ever worn – I must have been the most overdressed patient in the entire world, but it helped to keep me perky. As my thoughts rested on Michael, I glanced up at the clock and I saw that soon he would be arriving at the hospital, as he had every day at the same time, just like clockwork. Since he would not be here for a while though, I decided I could float back off to sleep until he came...

I woke up later, when the hospital was in the rhythm of a full working day, but I did not spare a passing thought for any of the people who were now in the ward. The entirety of my mind had focused on the limp form of a man who was sprawled across my legs...fast asleep! I smiled to myself, as he must have arrived some time ago, but did not want to rouse me. I knew that Michael's efforts to do things for me and get to the hospital very nearly at dawn was taking its toll, but equally I was aware he had made his mind up to be with me and nothing I could do or say would ever change it. I would have let the man who was deep in sleep remain so, but unfortunately, one of the reasons I had woken up was that my legs had begun to feel funny, as I was getting pins and needles in them, so it was necessary to revive him.

I shoved him, "Michael!"

He let out a moan, "Please, ten more minutes..."

I held back a laugh at this grown man's childish, sleepy request, "No, Michael! _Michael_, you've made my legs go to sleep. Wake up!"

Upon hearing that he was actually causing me physical discomfort, he sat bolt upright and smoothed down the covers of the blanket over my legs. "Sorry!"

I smiled, relieved that normal feeling was returning to the lower half of my body, "Michael, it's fine. But thank you for waking up and I'm sorry I had to." I gave him a warm grin, "you looked so peaceful."

He chuckled lightly at my kind words, but gripped my hand in his warm one and squeezed as thanks. We sat in that arrangement for a while, until another sensation took hold of my body. Making sure my nightdress was guarding my modesty; I excused myself and got out of bed, about to walk to the toilet.

Suddenly, Michael said "Frieda! Don't forget your IV!"

In my still sleepy daze, I had forgotten that I was connected to the IV drip and I was about to trip over it, so Michael had saved me from an embarrassing and painful accident. I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity, gripped the metal stand and continued on my way, saying to Michael with a wink, "Don't go anywhere...I'll be right back!"

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When I got back to my bed, I found a distressing and alarming sight. Michael was sitting on the bed, facing me with a confused and..._furious_ expression. The reason for his rage and agony was plain to see – my medical notes were lying open before him on the bed. _He knew_! I stopped abruptly, not knowing how to deal with this unexpected, new turn of events.

"Frieda..." his voice was tinged with suppressed outrage and disbelief, so much that I was frightened by his tone.

I knew that I was close to bursting into tears in the middle of a thronging ward, but I restrained myself. That didn't change the fact that I had no clue how to deal with Michael knowing that I didn't have much time left – much time with _him_ left... That was the truth that was heartbreaking, not that I wouldn't have enough time to go back to Holby, not that it would be a miracle if I saw Sonaya married...but that I had only just started something genuine and real with Michael and it would never lead anywhere because I wouldn't be around.

I collected myself and slowly made my way back to bed, pushing aside the paperwork so that I could sit facing Michael, my face within inches of his. I laid my hand gently on his cheek. "Michael?" I asked nervously.

He just looked at me, staring into the depths of my eyes for a long time. I gazed back and noticed a coat of water cover his beautiful brown eyes as tears formed. He took shallow, heaving breaths and eventually, he asked with a breaking voice, "Why? Why, Frieda?" he grabbed my arms strongly, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

The resentment permeating his voice, directed wholly at me for not keeping him in the loop and making him deceive my mama, was truly heartbreaking. The intense feeling that he projected at me weakened my own resolve and the only thing I could do with my own feelings of disappointment and grief was to cry, so I cried and went to the only place in the world where I now felt safe – Michael's arms. I threw myself into him with such force that you would never have suspected I was so sick. He, momentarily forgetting his own anger, allowed me to rest my head against his shoulder and to cry tears into his shirt and quickly pulled me closer as his arms wrapped protectively around my failing body.

He comforted me until my sobs waned, stroking my hair and hushing me, but once I had calmed down, he pushed me away from him, but kept his hands on the sides of my face. He looked at me once more and in a less riled voice, asked me, "Why?"

I wiped away the last of my tears and began my explanation, "Michael...Michael, I didn't have the strength to tell you. I didn't have the strength to tell _anyone_! But it was harder for me to contemplate telling you that I have a few weeks at most to live than my family." I looked at him sadly, "You have become so important to me and I care about you so much and we've just started something special and I didn't want it to end, so I decided not to tell you."

He interrupted me, part of his anger returning, "So you thought you'd let me know by you just dropping dead one day while we were out?"

I peered into my lap, ashamed by my response, "Yes. I know that sounds bad, Michael, but I just didn't have the words and I thought that at least if you had no idea just how ill I really was, then we wouldn't have a shadow hanging over us...we could just _be together_."

Michael immediately pulled me closer and laid his lips gently but full of passion on mine, then said, "Frieda, we are together. But you never should have even thought that not telling me was a good idea. I want to try and help you – I think Nadia's given up your time too quickly." He began to flick through the notes, "You could have more time, with the right operation and treatment. It's not as hopeless as she let you think, Frieda."

I had already read and assessed my own notes, so I knew that Michael was desperately clutching at straws. Not only that, but I knew that chemotherapy would have been the only option to win back more time were we in the United Kingdom, but we weren't and I couldn't – and wouldn't – undergo chemotherapy in Kiev. I wanted the remaining time I had to be spent with Michael and fully aware of who and what was going on, even if I spent it in this bed.

"No, Michael." Now it was me holding his hands firmly, "I've seen the notes and I know what I want and how I want to spend my last days. I do not want to be a ghost of Frieda while I'm still here, suffering from chemotherapy – I want to be me Frieda."

Michael's face betrayed his frustration at me for refusing treatment, but he didn't know that chemotherapy in Ukraine was an incredibly unviable option and I wasn't well enough to travel home. I did feel sorry for Michael for having to deal with all this when he only came here for a holiday... I did now have to make something crystal clear to him, "Michael, I still do not want my family to find out about all of this. There is still Sonaya's wedding and her future is more important than anything to do with me now."

He looked at me aghast, "Frieda! How can you say that? You're right, Sonaya does have a future, but your time now is more important because they..._we_ won't ever be able to get this time back. Sonaya can get married anytime!"

I was moved by his concern and my being his priority, but I would not let him have his own way in this – no way! "Michael! It is one of my last and final wishes that I die knowing Sonaya is married. Please, don't fight me in this – I haven't got the time!" I was being overly harsh to this caring and feeling man, who was just trying to do what he thought was best for me, but I was not about to let him sabotage my sister's wedding for me. "You'll have to ring my mama again and tell her I extended my break...she'll be angry, but there's nothing else to be done."

Michael's shoulders fell as he gave into my desires and requests. I knew I was asking something unforgivable and inhuman of him, but I had to do this...for my own peace of mind. Michael hesitantly removed his mobile from his pocket and dialled my number. When he told my mama what I had just said, I could hear her shouting at him down the phone. I stroked his hand gently as he received her rage and tried to calm her down unsuccessfully but then mama hung up the phone and Michael laid his hand upon mine stopping my ministrations.

He took my hand from his, but then opened his arms for me to scuttle into his warm embrace. I did not falter for a single moment. I clambered into his lap, sitting with my back pressed against his front, his arms around mine and I could feel his warm, comforting breath down my neck. He held me tightly, not willing to part with me, as he knew he would have to eventually, but not yet...

We sat in that attitude for hours on hours. From time to time, I cried but Michael pulled me even closer to him and rocked me gently, laying tender kisses on my neck. I knew in that moment, if I didn't before, which I suspect I did that Michael was the man I loved. He was the man I loved with all my heart, all my soul and all my being. He was the only man I had ever loved, aside from my father, but he was the only man who made me feel whole and complete. We were such an unlikely pair that somehow we had become a perfect pair. In a split second, without actually deciding to, I declared myself, "Michael, I love you."

He turned me round in an instant to face him, understanding the gravitas of my confession. He stared, searching my eyes, at me for a moment but then pressed his lips powerfully to mine and kissed me with such fire and passion that my heart once again melted. He withdrew after some time, pulled my head from his so our faces were once again almost touching and said, almost in a whisper, "I love you too, Frieda."

I smiled, so glad that he returned my love that no words were adequate now. So, there was nothing to be done except to kiss him once again with renewed strength, strength I really didn't have, but strength which his love had given me. We kissed in the same bed, in the same ward, in the same hospital where I had been for three days – but now, Michael Spence _loved_ me...


	10. So long, Mr Spence!

**Chapter 10 – So long, Mr. Spence!**

When evening came, Michael had to go as visiting hours were also over. He had tried to persuade Nadia to bend the rules for him (typical!) but she would not. I was quite glad, as I didn't want him to spend literally all of his time in this dreary hospital, he deserved to sleep in his comfortable bed at his hotel, while sick people here had to make do with the hard, cot-like beds. At least it was an incentive for those who could to get better quickly, just to sleep in a soft bed and get out of the hospital ones.

I stayed awake for a while after he kissed me goodbye and reluctantly left me. I thought about a lot of things – Sonaya, Michael and people at Holby. My thoughts drifted to Penny, who had died some time ago now...I missed her from time to time. She had been such a good friend, we had also not got off to the best start, but soon enough we became fast friends. She was killed tragically and we didn't even notice she had gone...I let out a single sob as I recalled how she had died in the rail accident but Michael and I hadn't even realised she wasn't with us, then Michael got a phone call and we found out she had died.

"I'm sorry, Penny." I said in a hushed voice, to myself rather than her. She couldn't hear me anymore and my apology wasn't worth anything.

With sorrow clouding my mind and fond memories of moments shared with Penny pervading my thoughts, I drifted off to sleep. I didn't know what was happening as I fell asleep though, or I would have got up and left the hospital to try and stop the debacle...

* * *

Michael had started out for his hotel, thinking also about memories and feelings and the new feeling of joy at confessing his love for me, but soon another darker idea entered his mind and took root there. He thought about how I was soon going to die, what he would do when I left and all the other people who had once been in his life, but had waltzed out of it, leaving him.

His first thought was for Annaliese, his ex-wife, whom I knew he still loved and would for the rest of his life. She was in New Zealand now, having left him again, but this time he was meant to see his children over this holiday but she had changed her mind and taken them with her. Michael adored his children, I had seen back at Holby just how much he had been looking forward to spending some time with them and how crushed he had been when Annaliese had last called. He also thought about Penny, the doctor who loved her work so much it took her life, Donna, the nurse who realised he wasn't good enough for her and had gone off with her new family and Connie, who was 'the one who got away', as they could have at any time started something but sparring was just more fun but Michael truly regretted not doing anything about that, but everyone eventually moved on from him.

The one thing that had mattered unequivocally to all of these people was their family. Annaliese had taken their four children because she couldn't stand to be without her family, Penny had gone into medicine along with Oliver, her brother and they were family, Donna had left to give Mia a better life with Kieran and Connie had left to care for her father and to spend more time with her darling daughter, Grace, for family. Michael knew as he walked through the main square of Kiev that he had made a gross error of judgment, but he now had to do everything he could to rectify his mistake, for there was one person who was going to leave, and leave her family behind.

Michael halted and turned to look back where he came, then returned his gaze to his hotel, just considering whether he was about to do the right thing, but he knew he had to do what he thought I should have done days ago. He turned and raced down the small streets of Kiev, heading for my mama's house.

"Derzhka! Mrs Petrenko!" Michael shouted as he rapped on my mother's front door. "Open the door! I have to tell you something urgent!"

It took another moment for Sonaya to open the door with a perplexed and surprised expression and allow Michael entry. When Michael rushed through to the living room, he saw my mama sitting next to Niklaus and Nadia with an array of wedding RSVP's scattered around the room.

"Nadia?" Michael exclaimed. "Have you told them?" he asked looking at her with accusing and incredulous eyes.

Nadia at once rose to look at Michael directly in the face, "No! Of course not, Frieda said she didn't want anyone to know." She examined him intently, "So what are _you_ doing here?"

Everyone else in the room watched the pair's exchange utterly blank, but they kept their silence until an opportunity to enquire what was going on presented itself.

Michael violently shook his head, "Nadia, it's wrong, it's all wrong. Frieda was totally wrong to think she ought to keep it a secret from her family, because _family_ is all that matters!" Michael paused to take a breath, "I have to tell them. She may not think she wants me to now, but in the end," Michael sighed heavily at his choice of phrase, "in the end, she'll be glad of it."

Nadia watched the impassioned man as he declared that actually their sentiments were the same. She also had been apprehensive to withhold Frieda's condition from the family, especially as her family was soon to be Frieda's family, but she had kept her own counsel. All she did in response to Michael's violent outburst was give a small nod.

Niklaus turned to his sister and asked, "Nadia, what is going on?"

Nadia only sat back down next to her brother and placed her hand on his, silencing him.

Michael noticed this intimate gesture, so he looked over at Sonaya and seeing her lack of reaction, in disbelief said, "If another woman was being like that with my fiancé, I'd have something to say about it."

At this, the entire room peered at him both curiously and confusedly, but my mama piped up, "Why would a sister holding her brother's hand be a problem?"

Michael shot looks from Nadia to Niklaus to Sonaya and his mouth opened in shock. "Sorry! Gosh, I've made a mistake. Frieda didn't tell me you were related." He said to Niklaus and Nadia.

Sonaya smiled, "No, she wanted to see how much you could work out." Her smile turned into a frown, "Where is Frieda? She was supposed to be helping with this wedding, but suddenly she's become interested in spas and her own, selfish desires." Michael could see my sister's disgust at the story of my spending time at a spa instead of being a good sister and helping with the wedding preparations, but Sonaya's reaction was enough now to convince him that he needed to come clean.

"Sonaya, she's not being selfish…or at least, she isn't on purpose." He squirmed as he was about to reveal his deception, "I'm afraid, and I am sorry, that Frieda, Nadia and I have not been entirely honest with you about where she is."

Everyone looked between Michael and Nadia, not knowing what to make of his words. They were all thinking: why would Frieda have included Nadia in her alibi?

My mama never did like riddles or enigmas, so she said in a huffed voice, "Mr. Spence, I like plain-speaking, so I would be grateful if you'd just tell us the truth and explain where Frieda is and what she's been doing…I promise not to judge."

Michael could see that she had entirely mistaken his meaning, but he wasn't going to address that on its own, "Sorry, but it is hard for me to tell you what I must." Michael sat down opposite my mama and leaned forward, "Frieda is in hospital and….she's dying."

You could have heard a pin drop in the room, so while Michael had the chance, he continued the story, "She collapsed when we were out a few days ago, so I took her to the hospital with Nadia. Frieda found out she has an untreatable type of lung cancer and she does not have long left." Michael had to stop to stop himself becoming hysterical, "She didn't tell me, I found out today, but she said before that she didn't want you guys to know she was in hospital because she didn't want to interrupt the wedding or the arrangements. She knows she's going to die and she told me her last wish was to see Sonaya get married and not to disrupt her wedding. But, you ought to see her, she needs people right now. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I played my part in the lying…I wouldn't have, had I known she was so ill."

The silence continued to weigh down on the room for a few minutes, until Sonaya went to sit beside Nikalus and taking his hands in hers, began to cry. This seemed to wake everyone else up out of their stupor. My mama approached Michael and her blank, unreadable expression gave away nothing. Once she reached him, she did something I've never seen nor heard her do. In the second his eyes arrested on her face, she struck him across the face in a hard, cold slap. If my sister's weeping had not roused everyone, this certainly would have and then sent everyone flying with the shock of it.

Michael winced at the pain, his cheek turning a bright shade of pink where my mama had battered it. In a malicious and injured tone, she spat at Michael, "We trusted you, Mr. Spence! We invited you here to our home and such an important family occasion, and this is how you repay us!" She gestured at Niklaus, "you humiliate us in front of our daughter's fiancé and his family, when even they paid for your expensive hotel!" Tears and sobs began to invade her voice, "And then, you come here, to tell me that for days, my daughter has been _dying_ in hospital and she will not be alive for long – maybe not even long enough to see her sister married!"

Sonaya rose, wiping her eyes, to put her hands round mama and pull her away from my beloved, whom she had slapped. Michael had not reacted to her attack or her harsh words. He just sat before her dejectedly and tried to stop his own tears from showing. He knew it was better that my mama vent her anger on him rather than save it for me…

Once she had removed mama from the room, she returned to face Michael and pulled him to stand her and she then had her turn to let off steam at Michael, "How could you? It's typical Frieda, not wanting to let anyone know what pain she's in, but how could you go along with it? I suppose I should be grateful that you eventually told us the truth, but I can't be, because you should never have kept her secret. My wedding won't go ahead now, not if Frieda isn't well enough for it, so that's that decided. But, I don't think you should stay here anymore." She sighed heavily, "You should just go home, Michael. Let us go to Frieda, let my mama spend some time with my sister. We'll be with her until she dies, not you! If you like – or even _love_ her – then, let her spend her last time with her family with no fighting around her, for mama won't forgive you for lying to us and she'll be difficult. I think you should just go back to Holby."

Michael heard Sonaya's words and advice and judged that he did love me with all his heart and after betraying my secret, he didn't know if he could face me, so maybe it would be better for him to return to Holby and let me die in peace surrounded by a calm group of family. It would be his punishment to live with himself afterwards…

"I'll go now."

And so, Michael checked out of his hotel, took a taxi to the airport and booked himself on an immediate flight to London passing through Prague. With a heavy heart, he left Kiev and the dying woman he loved behind in it…


	11. Regret & Repentance

**Author's Note:** I must give my apologies for not writing in a _long _time, I've just had a few personal and academic problems so what I would have written would have been awful anyway . But I am on holiday now, so hoping to do my usual amount of writing – will finally finish this story!

* * *

**Chapter 11 – Regret & Repentance**

Michael had slept on the short connecting flight from Kiev to Prague, but he had never slept worse in his life. He had even managed to wake up all the passengers surrounding him when he abruptly woke up from a nightmare, shouting "Frieda!"

He had entered into a dreamscape where they had been resting together in her bedroom and he had woken up to find her limp and lifeless and cold. He had never been so devastated in a nightmare before, and boy, did he used to have some real crackers! When he grasped her icy hand and could not rouse her from her now permanent sleep, he had shaken her so hard, had she been alive she'd have been screaming in agony.

Only when he began to sob in his tragic dream, did he wake from it. Unfortunately, passengers in first class were not very sympathetic to being woken up late at night by what seemed to be a nutcase shouting out. However, Michael was in no mood to respond to any of their curses and swears in what seemed to be more languages than were spoken than Michael knew existed. All he could think about was that Frieda – _his_ Frieda – was dying and he had had to leave her.

He drowsily disembarked from the plane at Prague International Airport and plopped himself ungracefully into a seat in the waiting area as he saw his flight to Stansted airport was delayed for two hours. So, he had two more hours to brood over his decision to take off and abandon Frieda. What hurt him the most was that he hadn't been able to say goodbye…he had just left after he had let her family frighten him away.

As he checked the status of his flight, another flight going to another place caught his eye. One that was flying back to Kiev… He would have loved to just run back to Frieda and never leave her side again, but he would not ruin her last days by inciting arguments between himself and her family. She deserved so much better. She deserved better than some jackass American, who had fallen head over heels for the Ukrainian beauty, leaving her up the creek without a paddle when she really needed him just to stick around until the bitter end. He thought he was a stupid, stupid idiot! What on earth was he doing sitting in a different country to Frieda? Stupid, stupid man…

Split-second decision – he had to get out of here and back to the woman he had only recently learnt he loved and who he was going to lose way too soon because fate had once again conspired against him. He strode purposefully towards the airline desk, knowing full well what had to be done.

"One ticket to Kiev, please, whatever you've got...pronto!" Michael said frantically, slamming his passport down on the desk.

Her family could be damned…he was going to be at her bedside when her world went black, and _nothing _would be able to stop him.


	12. In the Nick of Time

**Author's Note:** Writing this chapter made me cry, so I hope you like it and reading it moves you as much as writing it did me. Please do leave reviews – as it does help me to know what you think of the chapters and the story as a whole, particularly as the story is drawing to a close.

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**Chapter 12 – In the Nick of Time**

I awoke to see the faces of my family. My first immediate thought was that today was the day before my sister's nuptials. So, why were they at my bedside? _Wait a minute! How did they know I was even here? _

My eyes scanned the people sitting before me and searched for the comforting brown eyes of Michael Spence, but no matter how hard I looked those soft, tender globes were nowhere to be found. _Michael…where was he? If everyone who I loved was here, why wasn't he with them? _I laughed quietly to myself as I realised why he was absent – because something had evidently happened.

I was well aware that this was going to be as unpleasant as a rectal exam but I had to tear off the plaster and get it over with. I looked at my mother, who was crying and asked, "Mama, why are you here?"

At the sound of my voice I felt her grip my hand tighter, "Frieda, my darling. Why did you not tell us you were sick?" she shook her head, "we thought you were enjoying yourself on a break! Not languishing in a hospital room, DYING!" She had to stop so she could concentrate on her sobbing.

"Mama, I did not want you to find out before Sonaya got married! I said that if I was still…" I frowned, unwilling to reiterate my unpleasant fate in front of her but it was a hopeless situation, "alive, I would tell you everything."

Then, Sonaya made her voice heard, "Frieda! I can't believe you! How can I get married now? I wouldn't get married with you like this!"

I swore under my breath, but equalled my sister's harsh tone, "Sonaya! My life will soon be finished; yours will go on for years." I looked her directly in the eyes, "Why should the dying dictate the lives of the healthy and living?"

Tears formed and then fell, creating a salty waterfall down her cheeks as she whispered, "Because without you, I would not be as healthy and as alive as I am…" Her voice drifted away into nothing as she spoke, "and there would not be a wedding."

She caught Niklaus' eye and he nodded slightly down at my pale body with a smile – ever the silent presence. It was a good thing that he and my sister made such a close couple, as any other bridegroom might have reacted very differently to a proposal from the bride that their wedding be postponed at the very last minute. Although Niklaus liked to appear as the composed stoic, I knew really he was as soft as a cushion.

Thinking about Sonaya's other half brought my mind back to the other half of my soul. As a frown creased my forehead, my mama noticed instantly, "Frieda, what's wrong? Are you all right? Should I get a doctor?"

My frown transformed into a slight smile. I would have to be less transparent with my emotions, as now every little frown and cough would make my companions anxious. "Mama, I'm fine the way I am." I squeezed her hand reassuringly. "But, where's Michael?"

I watched as my mother, my sister, Niklaus and Nadia quickly glanced at each other, as if they were sharers of some great secret. They all seemed to know something bad, as the tale that their eyes told said that something had passed between them and Michael which had ended badly.

I rolled my eyes, "Please just tell me where Michael is," I struggled to contain my tears, "I _need_ to see him."

My mama glided her fingers over my hand where the cannula penetrated my skin, trying her best to soothe me. "Darling, just calm down please."

My breathing was becoming more ragged as my family chose to keep me in suspense. I found that this natural human ability grew more difficult day by day, but Michael had done his utmost to make sure I was not troubled or stressed by anything. But he was not here now to look after me, and I felt suddenly how much I needed him to do that – to protect me from normal human existence which harshly impeded on my now sheltered world in this ward. Michael had become like a drug to my condition. When we were together, I didn't feel like I was dying, I felt like I had everything to live for – as if I would spend maybe the next fifty years with Michael – being loved by him and loving him in return. In his absence, it hit me that soon it would be the other way round. I would be leaving him.

As I gasped for air, Nadia and Niklaus rushed to my side as they saw the problem arising. Nadia as she passed my mother and pulled her away from me said severely, "Just tell her what happened, Derzhka, it _might_ make her calm down and actually breathe!"

My mother's mouth opened in abject horror that something she had not said was causing me such acute respiratory distress. She soon remembered that time was of the essence or soon, I would suffer a respiratory arrest and my life would be endangered further, so she told me the story of how Michael had come to see them at home and confessed all the secrets which I had begged and pleadd with him to keep to himself.

"…so we told him to leave. He's gone, Frieda, he went to the airport and left." My mama said softly.

_What? Michael..gone! _

The shock that this news was to my system could never have been put into words. The sadness and loss I felt at the disappearance of my love was excruciatingly painful. I could not comprehend why he had let my family force him away from me if he loved me as much as he had professed he did. I believed (with all my heart!) that he had meant every word and every touch that he had lavished on me since we had been in Kiev, but now, I could not be entirely sure that my feelings of love and devotion, which were true and everlasting, were reciprocated. I had been misled by him so badly. I knew he could be arrogant and selfish, but I had come to always expect him to show me kindness and a different side to him. Maybe I was wrong…

As these thoughts waged their war in my head, all hell broke loose in the physical world. My heart monitor began to wail as my organ gave out under the strain my body and mind was being subjected to. I collapsed back onto the bed, my eyes slammed closed, my lungs no longer tried to expel air and take it in – my body was completely shutting down…probably for good. I was faintly aware of Niklaus' strong hands bearing down on my sternum as he tried to resuscitate me and the manual ventilator that Nadia had placed over my nose and mouth in an effort to make me breathe once more.

I heard my mother and sister crying in the background of the ward, arguing with a nurse who was trying to coax them from my bedside and into the atrium of the hospital. They stalwartly refused to leave my side. Nadia and Niklaus were spouting medical information at each other, issuing orders to nurses and using the substandard equipment in a valiant, final push to turn me from the path I was now speeding down.

"Charge three-sixty!"

My chest jolted with the electricity that was coursing through it. I did not know if my heart, still awash with betrayal at Michael's departure, would rejuvenate at the electric shock, but I knew that nobody holding the defibrillator would allow me to die without giving me every chance to fight.

During the time when the medical team were trying to bring me back, all I could dwell on was whether I actually wanted to return to exist for a while longer if Michael was not going to be there with me. Then I heard a voice which I did not expect to hear anytime soon, but one which I was so glad to hear and which made me fight so I could speak to its owner again!

"Jesus Christ, Frieda! Come back, you hear me, come back THIS SECOND!" Michael shouted as he ran through the ward to join the throng round my bed.

"Charge three-sixty again!"

_He's here, he's here! Go to him, Frieda, he's waiting for you…_

"We've got a rhythm! She's back!" Nadia said.

Nadia and Niklaus fell together onto the bed in the relief that the bleep of my heart monitor gave them. They just lay back and held each other's hands – true siblings in every way, a true team. I could feel Michael lay himself over my body and grasp my hand strongly, almost as if he were unwilling to let go ever again, which I was quite comfortable with.

"Thank you, God!" Michael said under his breath. "Thank you for bringing her back to me, I won't leave her again. I shouldn't have been a coward and left her in the first place. Frieda, I'm sorry…" His words turned into sobs and I felt tears land across my midriff in floods as he wept.

His sobs tugged at my heartstrings and I felt myself join the physical world once more, for never did I wish to listen powerless to the one I love cry. I opened my eyes slowly and peered down at the top of Michael's head and squeezed his hand firmly.

"Hello, Michael."

He sat bolt upright – as did everyone else, but they kept their distance – and wiped the salty tears from his face, "Frieda…"

He leaned in and planted a chaste but intense kiss on my dry lips and smiled, "Don't scare me like that, sweetheart."

I had just enough energy to smile knowingly back again, "Back at you, baby."

He chuckled to himself and stroked my cheek. "Sleep now, you're going to be fine, Frieda."

I could already feel my eyelids closing, willing me to sleep, but my persistent fears would not let me drift yet, "You'll be here when I wake up, won't you?"

"Of course I will, I'm not going anywhere…ever again."

With that promise, I fell asleep knowing I had something worth waking up to.


	13. Remember the Times

**Author's Note:** I'm starting to get premature withdrawal symptoms from this fanfiction, even though there are a couple of chapters remaining! This is heightened particularly by the fact that I really miss Frieda (and/or Olga!) on Holby City itself, hence the clip show style of this chapter, done so that I can reminisce about Frieda's most memorable episodes. Hope you all read and review and enjoy this story as it concludes… Again I must apologise for medical inaccuracies and issue a "Do not try/do this at home/hospital!"

* * *

**Chapter 13 – Remember the Times**

Michael had kept his word and was still by my side when I was torn from my sleep, having slept for several hours recovering from my close shave. Apparently because a renowned physician had become involved in my case – namely Niklaus – the hospital had waived some of its normally stalwart regulations and permitted Michael to pay no heed to visiting hours. He had joined me in my rest and as we would have hopefully been doing in a normal bed, had I been healthy. As my life was coming to its close, I knew I was leaving this man behind and he would be without me for years to come.

As I woke up, disorientated and confused, I felt a foreign heaviness across my stomach and smiled upon seeing that his arm was stretched protectively across me. I recalled the last time I had woken up with part of my sweetheart draped over me, but none of the discomfort that had invaded our repose then was present now…there simply wasn't time for that, we only had time to be as perfect as we could with each other.

My eyes were shaken by the sun as its rays permeated the clinical white ward. As I looked at the time, I saw that in a couple of hours my sister would be getting married. She had put up a fight, but to keep me calmer than I had been, I knew Nadia had persuaded her brother and her prospective sister-in-law to go ahead with their wedding, so I would have no regrets when my body finally gave out. Only Michael would keep me company today, but nothing could have ever given me more pleasure than the idea of spending one day where just the two of us could share everything which we should have had a lifetime to, but couldn't.

As if he felt me awake, Michael followed quickly. He sat bolt upright, his arm unmoving from my body, looked at me as he got his bearings and let out a sigh of relief.

"Hello darling. Sleep well?" He asked, rubbing the sleep from his beautiful brown eyes.

I snorted at the normality of it all, "Yes, Michael, I did," I laughed as energetically as I could, "Which is completely down to you, so thank you for staying here with me. I know it has no comparison with your hotel…"

"Frieda, I wouldn't have been in my hotel last night for _anything_ in the world." He said in such a heartfelt tone, I thought _I_ might cry for him.

I raised my weak and shaking hand to brush at the stubble now colouring his cheek and ageing him. His hand followed mine, steadying it as it caressed his face and he leaned into my palm, planting a chaste kiss there. All I could do for what seemed to be an age was watch as we touched and took solace in the feel of each other's skin and souls colliding.

"I love you, Michael, with all my heart." I said in a voice threatening to be overcome by tears.

He glanced up at my sudden gesture, but didn't hesitate, "I love you, Frieda," he took a deep breath, "and I will _forever_. I will never love another as I love you for the rest of my life."

I was touched by his words and I knew in my heart that they were true, which nearly visibly surprised me, but I was tactful enough to hide my shock. I knew that Michael was no longer the womanising, happy-go-lucky man who he once was. In recent years – and weeks – he had become sensitive and sweet and heartbreakingly tender. I knew I ought to try and get him to promise that he would try and find someone else for himself as he deserved to be happy, but this was not a rom-com starring Jennifer Aniston and real life was cruel…besides, I, the girl who spent her life pining for her father's lost chances, was not really in a position to convince anyone to immerse themselves in life.

I gave him the only reply I felt able to give. I pulled him to me and took his lips in my own and held him as close as I could, encumbered as I was by the wires and tubes securing me to the bed. No one else stirred yet, it was still only the two of us awake on the ward. As a gift, Nadia had also arranged for me to take one of the private rooms for the remainder of my stay, so I would not be bothered by the hustle and bustle of the main hospital.

When Michael withdrew to breathe, I collapsed back into the bed. For a girl dying of lung cancer, the kiss was a strain, but one that was worth the shortness of breath which I now was experiencing. I began to take heaving breaths, but as Michael rose to worry over me, I batted him back down. I was fine, but I realised that I was going to have to be choosier with my displays of affection for Michael.

As I regained my breath, Michael's mobile phone went off. As he took it from his pocket and hurried to quieten it, I caught a fleeting glance at the caller ID image and the wallpaper of his sleek, black Samsung Galaxy. The photo had been of Annaliese, who was in New Zealand with all of Michael's children. Most girlfriends would have been put out to find a photo of a stunning ex-wife on their boyfriend's phone, but it had always been clear to me that Michael still carried intense and complex feelings for his ex-wife and that would never change no matter what his feelings for me were. His response of "Damn woman!" did, however, make me smile slightly as he terminated her call without picking up.

It was the wallpaper image that astonished me. It was a picture of Michael in scrubs, with me and…Penny? It was the 'Team Spence' photo. I knew he missed those good old days with 'Pit-Stop' and me. Team Spence had continued after Penny's death, but what with Michael's re-entry into plastics and its subsequent, grotesque failure, Team Spence had been put to ground. I chuckled to myself at my gothic description of the group's demise. I was sincerely taken aback by the photo he had chosen for his phone, though.

"I remember the day you insisted that photo was taken."

He looked up at me, evidently startled yet glad that I had noticed it.

"So do I…it was a good day, that. You and Penny saved that girl whose father was the photographer. She was in that RTA with a collapsed lung and," Michael laughed, "you just patted her slightly on her side and she started breathing again."

I laughed myself at the recollection of that day, "Penny was so angry at me! She told me off so badly because I was a _nurse_ and she was a _doctor_. If you'd have told me on that day that we'd have become such good friends, I would have called a psych consult!"

"I don't think I've ever missed a colleague as much as I miss Penny." Michael halted quickly and shot me a concerned whilst apologetic look.

I realised instantly why he had regretted his words. I would be missed more than Penny for Michael and I was a colleague still, though I wouldn't be for much longer. I gripped his hand firmly, showing that I understood but did not blame him.

My eyes brightened as an idea sprang into my head, "Let's take a trip down memory lane. Once you're at the end, you want to remember what came before."

Michael nodded sombrely but smiled and agreed seeing the happiness the idea gave me, "Fine. I'll start, then."

* * *

_The young, gothic doctor was trying her best to control a male patient who was causing trouble in the ward. She drew the curtains so that her supervising consultant, Mr. Spence, was unable to see the goings-on by the patient's bed as Dr. Petrenko struggled to communicate with the elderly gentleman. _

_Mr. Spence was suddenly drawn to attention as a high pitched shriek emanated from the concealed area of his ward. He thought he might go and see if his young protégée might need his assistance but laughed to himself as he imagined her reply would be less than cordial and his interference would probably be futile as she was more than competent. Anyways, a nurse was headed that way to see if she could lend a hand and Sunil was clamouring for his attention._

_When Mr. Spence came back to the ward an hour later, he was surprised by the sight that greeted him. A strange girl seemed to have graced his presence…one who looked quite like Dr. Petrenko but there was one glaring difference. He wondered what had happened with the difficult patient that had required her to remove her defining make-up. She didn't look the same. She almost looked pretty!_

_Dr. Petrenko had always shown herself to be a smart, witty and at times, brilliantly talented medic, but Mr. Spence was beginning to catch a glimpse on that day of her insecurities and weaknesses. When she had floundered in theatre because that idiot Sunil had decided to go up against her, even though Mr. Spence had cautioned him against it, Mr. Spence saw that she was hiding behind her dark make-up and that really she struggled with herself as a woman._

"You looked so…young that day sweetheart, almost as beautiful as you did a couple of days ago when we went out." Michael smiled as he stroked her hand.

"I remember that guy. I was so frightened without my make-up. I tried so hard, Michael, not to let you see me without it. I should have hid from Mr. Bhatti!"

As I laughed then, so did Michael. The joy of one immediately gave hope and happiness to the other in our strange, yet wonderful, relationship.

"I've got a good one!" I exclaimed as my laughter subsided.

_Dr. Petrenko's time in Ukraine had been too long. She had just returned to Holby General along with Mr. Spence, recently pardoned for the plastics scandal. She had met a new friend, Eddi McKee, whom she got on with like a house on fire, but she also had met the new F1 doctor, Lulu Hutchison, who appeared to be already grating on Sasha and Eddi's last nerves!_

_The way she had ordered her espresso ahead and flirted effortlessly – and shamelessly – with Mr. Spence gave Dr. Petrenko ideas. The scheming with Nurse McKee began. It was almost fate when a patient was admitted who was a known "grabber". It was a shame when the plans of the two conspirators were averted and the wrong behind had been on the receiving end…but the look on Mr. Spence's face was just as – if not more – priceless!_

_Weeks later, Dr. Petrenko was sitting at the nurse's station with Mr. Levy and Nurse McKee and young Jasmine Spence, all watching the drama unfold as Mr. Spence berated Dr. Hutchison for slapping "his child". Dr. Petrenko secretly thought that Jasmine was both a lucky and unlucky girl to have a father like Mr. Spence. He was simultaneously the most caring and protective father she had ever seen, whilst being a totally and utterly rubbish and absent father. Dr. Petrenko got the opportunity to express her admiration for Mr. Spence both as a person and a professional as she helped his eldest daughter complete her school project about her father's work._

_In a way, when she saw the content and proud face of the father the next day, having read the presentation, she knew she had done a good thing for the man who was fast becoming a dear friend and colleague. It didn't matter that he never said thank you or even showed that he knew she had been responsible for his daughter's loving gesture…_

"I didn't know! That was _you_!" Michael shouted, entirely surprised by the apparent, new information.

All I could do in response was nod slightly. I was unsure if he was okay with this news or if he was angry…the exclamation hadn't really betrayed any emotion beyond shock.

"Michael, she needed someone to help her. I thought I was doing you a favour and it clearly made you so proud of her. I'm sorry if my part in it upsets you in any way. I didn't mean for this to upset you."

"Oh, Frieda…"

As he groaned my name, he enfolded me in his arms and stroked my hair gently; planting kisses on the crown of my head.

"It makes the memory all the more special and precious to me, that _two_ of the most treasured people in my life did that presentation." He frowned slightly, "Though one thing I don't understand is if you felt that way about me then…why didn't you say anything?"

"Michael, I didn't have any feelings for you then. I just knew you were fast becoming a good friend who, as I judged it, didn't deserve to let his daughter down or for her to resent him at all."

"All right, then. Let me tell you about one last memory…" he said as he laid me down on the bed, watching as my eyes once more started to close, but I resisted the growing need to go back to sleep.

_Mr. Spence walked through the ward, looking for Dr. Petrenko urgently. He knew he couldn't have missed her. There's no way she would have left again, at least not without saying goodbye! They were better friends than that!_

_Recently the older doctor had noticed Dr. Petrenko loosening up around him and a new sort of banter had emerged. Before it used to be him taking the piss out of her for being a vampire or Dracula or a zombie, but now, the tables seemed to have turned. She had grown more comfortable with him and was starting to engage in some light-hearted japes with him…at his expense, no less!_

_But today, she had the burden of Atlas on her shoulders and she had lied to him and the rest of the team. She had told them in fear that she had passed her exams, when really Hanssen had instructed her to see him in his office at 6pm, which meant that she had failed. Mr. Spence knew more than anyone – except maybe Mr. Hope – what the young doctor had been through and overcome to be at Holby and to try and succeed at becoming a doctor. Mr. Spence also knew that when faced with failure, Dr. Petrenko's main coping mechanism was to run and think about it later, when it was too late. He wasn't about to let her throw in the towel before her time was up though, especially not after she'd actually – although accidentally – been instrumental in diagnosing their patient._

_Mr. Spence located Dr. Petrenko in the hospital lobby. He had decided to stake out the doorway, so he could observe all those who entered and exited the hospital and confront the girl he was looking for should she come that way. Luckily, he managed to catch her as she was apparently "going out for a fag" and he emitted an immense sigh of relief because he convinced her to stay and at least go and see Hanssen._

_This willingness and determination to keep his new friend and loyal protégée around was unusual for Mr. Spence but he was glad of it. He needed friends in the hospital and he couldn't have wished for a better one – in fact, no one who was her friend could wish for a better one – than Dr. Petrenko._

I looked lovingly at the object of my affections as he finished his tale and I was drifting off to sleep. He perched himself on the side of the bed so as to more easily caress my cheek, trying to ease me into my rest. Oddly, he also seemed to be deep in some internal debate, but I hadn't got the energy to ask him about it.

My mind was reassured that he had reached a good decision when he smiled contentedly and said, "Go to sleep, my love. I'll still be here, but I've just got to go and do something important, okay?"

As I nodded and fell asleep, he kissed me lightly and walked away out of the ward.


	14. Hello & Goodbye

**Author's Note:** Profound apologies for the long gap between this update and the last one…I have been on holiday and thus haven't had the opportunity to write this chapter. This is the penultimate chapter, so at this moment I would like to thank everyone who has read, and especially everyone who has left such kind reviews which really made me smile (like I slept with a hanger in my mouth!) and I hope you'll review these last two chapters. Also, as I wrote this chapter on "The most successful day for Great Britain in Olympic history" (yes, congratulations Jessica Ennis, Mo Farah and Greg Rutherford!) there is a little reference, so I hope you'll forgive me for a little patriotism!

* * *

**Chapter 14 – Hello & Goodbye**

_A week later…_

I had spent seven days drifting in and out of sleep, but I had been awake long enough to see my sister, the newly-married Mrs Zadorozhny and her husband before they embarked on their honeymoon, which they had to be heavily persuaded to go on. They had demanded that they be allowed to cut it short, so they were only travelling to Mauritius for three days instead of the three week honeymoon which had been the original plan.

My mama was a constant presence at my bedside but she had painful memories of hospitals, so she was never able to stay for long. Michael, on the other hand, had more or less taken up residence in our private room along with me. His manner had changed over the past week. As I got weaker, Michael became more taciturn and oddly preoccupied with his phone, which he observed intermittently as if always waiting for it to ring. He also left when it buzzed occasionally saying that "it's only the hospital", but I was disturbed by this falsehood. Michael had informed Mr. Hanssen that I was in a bad way last week and that he himself was not to be disturbed or contacted while he stayed with me.

As I woke after a short nap, I heard Nadia talking to Michael.

"She is getting weaker faster than she should be. She's not going to hold out much longer, Mr. Spence," I heard Michael's grief-stricken groan, "I would give her a couple of days…_at the most_." Nadia's voice drowned in the tears that flowed down her cheeks.

I already knew that my condition had deteriorated rapidly, too quickly for me to have much longer than Nadia said, but I wanted to hear what the two doctors would talk about not knowing that I was eavesdropping.

"Nadia…I can't lose her, not yet, not now. It wasn't supposed to end like this. She has to last longer!"

It was a difficult test of character for me not to just reach out to him and pull him into my embrace, but I knew that I _had_ to hear what he would never tell me while I was conscious.

"I truly am sorry, Mr. Spence. You know as well as I do there's nothing more we can do for Frieda. It's just a matter of palliative care and making her as comfortable as possible."

"I've organised a bit of a surprise for her, but now I'm not sure whether I've done the right thing for her or not," I had no idea he had done something, but I guessed that I had just found out the reason for the glances at his phone. "I think it might hurt her more instead of making her happy, which is what I intended it to do."

Nadia rubbed Michael's shoulder soothingly, "Mr. Spence, the amount she loves you, I'm sure she'll love whatever it is you've planned for her because it was your thoughtful gesture." She sighed, "In this case, I'm sure the saying 'It's the idea that counts' applies."

I couldn't help myself, hearing what Nadia had just said. Like Michael, I sniggered at her mistake, "It's the thought that counts, Nadia," I said, watching as the two of them realised I had been listening to their conversation, "and," I looked pointedly at Michael, "she's right."

Michael smiled softly at seeing me awake and apparently jovial, but as he strode to sit on the edge of my bed and as per his ritual, to take my hand in his, his smile turned into an expression full of concern and worry, "Are you feeling all right, sweetheart?"

I squeezed his hand. "Michael, I feel fine." he looked at me, unconvinced by my reply, "Okay, I feel like a train's gone over me and I'm absolutely exhausted, but no need to worry so." I raised my hand to caress his cheek, the stubble having grown into the makings of a full-fledged beard.

When Nadia left us alone in the company of the bleeps and drones of the various machines clustered about my bed, Michael moved closer and pulled me as close as he could into his arms – where I gladly went. His arms had become a haven for me, one of the last safe places I could go to, where the pain went away and I forgot how close my death was.

Just as we got comfortable and arranged the tubes and wires so as not to disconnect any of them while I was in an…unusual position in the bed, Michael's mobile went off with the sound of a siren.

I smiled at the familiar sound, "Holby?"

Michael winked at me before picking up, "Hi, Spence here." He listened intently to the caller, whose voice I couldn't quite make out, "Yeah? Fabulous! I'll do that, give me half an hour." He looked apologetically at me, "Nope, not a problem. Fine, see ya."

The smile – no, grin – plastered across Michael's face was ludicrous. He looked like a man who's just won gold at the Olympics, prompting me to shoot him a suspicious look.

"Michael, what's wrong? What do they need?"

He suddenly seemed to realise that I was in the room, "Oh! Sorry…it's nothing. I've just got to," he hesitated, "go to the post office for a while." As he rose, leaving a tender kiss on my hair, he said, "I'll see you in a bit, love."

He laid me back on the bed knowing it would not take long for sleep to claim me, but as he walked out of the room quietly, I heard him whisper, "Don't go anywhere, Frieda."

"I promise, I'll be here when you get back." I muttered as he quit the room and then fell asleep.

* * *

When I woke later, yet again there were voices in my hospital room. Only this time, there were more people and except for Michael, none of them were voices I had heard while we were in Kiev, but as I realised what was going on and whose voices they were, I was almost brought to tears.

"Mr. Spence, when did this start? She was fine when she left Holby." A voice full of youth and vigour said.

"Well, the cancer can be unnoticeable for up to five months, then something can set it off and the result…" Another voice, one with more wisdom and age, said with subtle confidence.

Michael's authoritative tone interrupted, "yes, yes, we know, thank you!"

A woman's voice, warm yet firm and controlled, growled, "Idiot!"

"What I would do is…" A gruff, arrogant young doctor began.

"Ha! Does anyone here think that what he is about to say will be at all helpful?" A well-spoken, yet tired man questioned brusquely.

With the exception of one, everyone in the room was unanimous in their response, but one voice in particular, filled with more kindness and sentimentality than the rest apologised, "No, sorry."

Once I was sure I knew whom I was about to see after I opened my eyes, I saw above me a group of people standing at the foot of my bed, now all peering down at me as I languished before them.

I found the face of the last man to speak as he said gently, "Hello, Frieda."

I nodded slightly, "Mr. Hope," I smiled, "couldn't resist the charms of Kiev for long?"

Everyone in the room let out a quiet giggle at my attempt at humour.

"What are you all doing here?"

Then, Michael came to my side and helped me as I tried to sit up and explained, "Frieda, I called them. It's what I was telling Nadia about earlier. I didn't want you to miss anyone when…"

I interrupted with a squeeze of his hand, "Yes, I know what you mean, Michael. Carry on."

He smiled gratefully at me, "I just thought you might like to see some people from back home and I knew that they would want to see you once more."

As he spoke, my eyes became awash with tears and my now frail body plunged and heaved with sobs.

"Hush now, love," Michael lulled me as he enfolded me in his strong arms, "What's the matter? I knew I should have asked you first."

It wasn't that I was saddened by the sudden appearance of my friends from Holby. Seeing Ollie, Luc, Eddi, Malick, Mr. Griffin and Mr. Hope now just brought every emotion I had kept hidden and buried deep within me overflow and spill into the world in front of everyone.

As Michael shushed and soothed me, rubbing his hands against my back and stroking my hair, I only just managed to hear Luc suggest that the others in the room leave.

I parted at once from Michael, looked at the group of doctors and Eddi and begged, "No! Please, I'm sorry," I wiped my face roughly, brushing away the tears making way for the smile, "I am just _so_ glad to see all of you."

My friends returned my smile and Eddi, the mistress of practicality and strength, even came to the bed and gave me a supportive hug.

Since the tense atmosphere had been diffused, all hell broke loose in the now cramped room. Michael hijacked some chairs from around the ward and piled them inside, pizza was brought in and cans of Coca Cola and Tango were drunk. Even Mr. Hope and Mr. Griffin, who usually excused themselves politely or refrained from the food and drink at work-related events, joined in the fun heartily. I so rarely had the opportunity to see a bright and easy-going side of the two senior physicians, so now I was witnessing them both telling jokes and anecdotes about 'the good old days', I got swept up in their good humour.

The pleasant and unexpected company was enough to drive the lethargy from my body, or at least, to stop me from remembering how fatigued I was. While I was enjoying the fun and games my friends initiated, an idea came to me and although it would be a wrench for me and would most certainly be overwhelming for – I suspected – most of them, I knew I had to do it while I had some inkling of strength.

When the group conversation concerning Mrs Beauchamp and a Mr. Sam Strachan came to a natural pause, I asked, "Guys, would you mind going outside for a minute? There's something I need to ask Michael."

They all mumbled their assent and left Michael alone with me in the room, looking very concerned.

"Frieda, love, what's the matter? Are you feeling all right?" He got up and checked the readings on all the machines attached to me.

"Oh, Michael," I exclaimed, pulling him back down from his examination of the cardiogram, "I feel fine, in fact I feel phenomenal! I would just like you to do me a favour."

Without hesitation – or question – he said, "Anything, sweetheart."

"I want you to take them to mama's house. I need to say my goodbye to each of them, individually in letters, please." I wasn't going to say more to him, for it would have only caused him more anxiety.

Michael's initial response was to push his hair from his face and rest his elbows on his knees. He did look weary and burdened, but let out a frustrated snort, "You going all Rachel Green on me now?"

I was utterly confused by this remark, "I'm sorry? Michael, I don't know what you're talking about."

Knowing full well then that with my taste in TV and Film, I would have no notion of characters on _Friends_, "It's nothing, love. I'll go tell them right now. While we're out, do you want anything from there?"

"No, thank you." I hesitated, "I think I'm going to write to Mr. Griffin first."

As ever, with a kiss Michael left me to run my errand.

* * *

_Mr. Griffin_

_I know the two of us were never that close, but I always respected you as a man and a doctor. I will miss working with you on Keller and watching you try to not kill 'The Malick', which I know is something that is a challenge every day._

_Please send my love and friendship to Chantelle and Sister Williams and if you can bring yourself to be nice to him for a while, Mr. Hanssen. _

_I will truly miss all of you at Holby,_

_Best wishes,_

_Frieda_

_Luc,_

_I know we've only known each other a short while and we did not have the best of starts, but I now consider you to be one of my friends at Holby and I hope you felt the same, though I know from Eddi that you don't really trust people enough to see them as friends._

_About Eddi…I've also only known her for a short while before I met you, but she cares about you a great deal and if I've learnt anything since…my news, it's not to waste time running or being cryptic. Just be with each other if it makes you happy, and you both clearly make each other happy. I will miss you in AAU and I'm sorry to break up our A-Team._

_Once I'm gone, if you can, I would like you to do me one final favour. If the situation ever presents itself where Michael goes off the rails at the hospital, please do what you can to help him. He – like you – has been through so much and he's about to endure some more pain but he does not deserve to lose his job if Hanssen finds out, so please just help him as much as you can._

_And please convey my love and best wishes to Sasha,_

_Good luck,_

_Frieda Petrenko_

_To 'The Malick'_

_Goodbye, my friend. You are a great doctor – and you know it! Your arrogance and spirit often helped brighten up a grim day, so thank you. _

_Be careful, Antoine, be careful of your temper, for one day I know it will land you in a scrape you won't be able to talk and charm your way out of and then you might even have to ask Mr. Griffin for help! _

_With fondness,_

_Frieda_

_Dear Eddi_

_I am going to miss you so much. I'll miss you and me riling up Sasha, you and me gossiping about Luc and especially the times when it was all of AAU vs. Lulu 'Slut' Hutchison. Who'd have thought that in a way I'd follow in her footsteps? Though I hope I am – oops, I've been – less of a tart about it…_

_Don't give up on Luc, Eddi. Some people just take some time and for something, or someone, to jolt them out of their own reflections. Hopefully, my death will do that for Luc (and for you) and the two of you will be able to be happy together, as Michael and I should have had the chance to be. I wish you all the best with the man you love and who – Frieda knows – loves you back just as much._

_One final request…don't let Michael fall off the wagon too much please. Keep him safe for me, Eddi. You're the only one I'd trust to._

_Affectionately,_

_Frieda_

_Dear Mr. Hope_

_I cannot thank you enough for everything you have done for me over the years we have known each other, from writing me my F1 reference letter to saving Lev's life here in Kiev. Also, from what Michael has told me, you were instrumental in getting everyone to Kiev to see me this time, so I owe you thanks for letting me see my dearest friends before I go._

_You are a kind and gentle soul who deserves all the best of luck, but you won't mind me saying that you're also so clumsy that you'll need the luck I wish you wholeheartedly._

_I know you miss your wife dreadfully, so if I can, I'll be sure to tell her 'hi' from you. _

_Remember me well to Holby,_

_Frieda_

_Ollie_

_Writing to you has been one of the hardest things I've had to do so far. I remember how carefree and happy you used to be before Penny died, but now you've become mature and responsible and I'm proud to have known you. I know you do a lot of the work you do for Penny and on her behalf and it's made you a better person. wOne day, a girl – who unfortunately will not be me – will give you your reason to live for yourself and for her instead of for those of us who are dead or dying. I would ask you to continue your medical career and thrive in it for me too now, as I won't be able to myself._

_Recently I have thought a lot about how close we came to being together and had fate (and Penny!) intended differently, you might have been in Michael's shoes at the moment, but as much as I desire and need him to be spared the pain of losing me, I would not wish you into his shoes. I hope you'll never have more need to suffer beyond what you have already._

_Goodbye, my dear,_

_Frieda_

* * *

As I finished the final note, my heart was greatly burdened but in a way incredibly unloaded. I felt as if I was Atlas and the skies had been lifted from my shoulders, though I, like the Titan, knew that very soon the weight would be given back to me. I had thought about writing to Michael, but I didn't have the heart or strength for it, so I decided that what needed to be said we would say to each other and what ought to be left unsaid would be.

Anyway, after writing my heart and soul out in my farewell notes, I felt the tiredness and fatigue crush me and all I wanted to do was go to sleep.


	15. A Hard Day

**Author's Note:** All I can really say is sorry for the ridiculous, long delay in getting this chapter written and published. I've been moving back to university and I just have had no time firstly to write the final chapter, then to upload it to , seeing as I have no broadband yet! Many profound apologies, but here it is. Thank you ever so much if you've been reading and reviewing since the beginning and stuck with it.

* * *

**Chapter 15 – A Hard Day**

I woke up shivering and frail, as I had for the last few days. Nadia, Niklaus and Michael all agreed I would be lucky to see the end of this week. I had already come to terms with the remainder of my days, but I knew that it would be those who I left behind who would feel my absence much deeper and for much longer. My mother was not to be consoled and on the occasions where she came to the hospital had distressed herself and everyone else to such an extent that she had stopped coming to visit as often. Michael, on the other hand, had been granted permission to stay permanently by my bedside and live the last few days I had with me.

Michael was my rock, though I saw clearly the hurt and grief that he tried so hard to keep concealed from me. He was awake when I woke in the morning, he listened to me and talked to me through the day until I became fatigued again and then he stroked my hair and soothed me until I drifted back off to sleep. He always murmured the words "until we meet again" before I went to sleep, knowing that no matter if I woke up again, those words would still be true.

Today, I woke up and he was on the phone, so I listened to his conversation concerning me not knowing who was on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, I know!" he shouted.

"She's not got long, ask Mr. Hemingway for crying out loud!"

"Well, I don't care about that and no, I will not 'use a more civil tone', you Swedish prick!"

Once I heard the insulting name Michael called the other person, I knew that it was obviously Mr. Hanssen speaking. I was stunned at Michael and the way in which he was speaking to _his boss_! Even though I had very little to do with the cold, stern man, I had always borne him immense respect and admiration. He had a tough job and right now, he was being put through his paces by none other than Michael Spence, which he had unfortunately become accustomed to doing.

"Look, Hanssen, there has to be something you can work out…she deserves to have it." Michael's voice petered out as he calmed down.

"All right, thanks, Mr. Hanssen. No, I'm not going to apologise."

"That's my style. I'll be seeing you."

With that, he hung up and turned to face my pale and wan face peering at him disapprovingly.

"What was that about?" I asked.

He changed back into the Michael whom I had grown to love and smiled at me and said, "Nothing to worry you, sweetheart."

I cannot think why, but at that moment a tidal wave of tiredness washed over my body and I fell back into the pillows of the bed with a sigh.

"Frieda?" Michael exclaimed, running over to my bedside.

I patted his hand softly as he gripped the side of the bed, "Don't worry, I'm alright. I'm just _so_ tired."

"Shhhh…my love," his eyes fell from their contact with mine and when they held my gaze again, they were awash with tears, "Go to sleep."

I nodded slightly, "It won't be long now, you know, my love…I can feel it."

He had no answer to give; he only stroked my fingers tenderly. We sat in that attitude for what seemed like an age, not knowing what to say to each other, but eventually Michael found the words he needed so badly to say.

"Frieda, I'll never let you go. You're the only person I've ever loved _this_ much and in this way and I don't wanna lose you…in fact, I'm not sure I can lose you."

By the time he reached a close, tears were flowing freely down my face, "Michael, I…"

The next thing I knew was that all hell broke loose around me. Somewhere a monitor was screaming, a man's frantic voice was calling for help and the sound of running doctors pouring into my room like a waterfall crashing down on rocks.

I knew in that minute moment that it was all over, my time was up, so I concentrated all my energy, hope and desire on Michael and what he was going to do with his life as from this day on, I would not be a part of it…

* * *

_Fourteen days, nineteen hours and twenty two minutes later…_

St. John the Apostle's church was crowded with a sea of people all dressed in black, white and grey. Among the crowd, a plethora of languages could be heard: Ukrainian, Russian, English and French, yet no matter how the words were spoken or in what tongue, all mouths were saying the same thing straight from the heart. There was one man, however, who spoke not a word.

Mr. Michael Spence stood alone, away from all the other people. His blank eyes spoke volumes, where his lips uttered no sound; they spoke of loneliness, heartbreak and sheer devastation at the tragic loss of Frieda Antonina Petrenko. He had paid for the funeral and the gravestone that would rest above her body, which was to be laid next to her father, in Kiev cemetery for years to come, for it was all he could do for her family. Her mother wept quietly, while her sister held her arm and cried herself. The renowned Dr. Niklaus Zadorozhny stood serenely at his wife's side with one hand upon her shoulder. As the group of four stood, waiting for the service to commence, they were engulfed by the multitude of people who offered their condolences and sympathies.

Michael avoided the attention of the mourners of his most loved one, although he was to speak during the service, he knew he could not say his final farewell to Frieda if he had to make small talk with people whom he didn't care to meet at a funeral. Only one person, except Frieda's close family, knew who Michael truly was to Frieda – his daughter Jasmine.

Jasmine had remembered the funny Ukrainian doctor who had kept her company during her father's Lulu phase and comforted her after the snobby, pretentious woman had slapped her. Part of the reason why Jasmine was still close to her father, even though she rarely spent any time with him at all, was that Frieda told her and showed her the true and better side of her father, when she hadn't even known it existed. Jasmine would never be able to fully thank her, but at the age of thirteen, she understood that the best way for her to thank the dead woman was to help her father as much as she could through his grief.

"Michael?" Derzhka asked tentatively.

When the American did not respond, she gently squeezed his arm, "Michael?"

"Hm?" he mumbled, still far away from the reality that had invaded his life.

"It's time."

Most of the religious elements of the service went wholly past Michael. Frieda had never really been religious and it had never been of great importance to her, so he spent the time steeling himself for what was to come. Only when it was his turn to speak about his dead lover, did he become aware of his surroundings and his actions.

"Frieda Petrenko was a beautiful, intelligent and funny woman. She was the best thing I had in my life for a long time, though I didn't even realise it," Michael looked down and took a burdened sigh, "until it was too late. Even though we worked at a hospital and dealt with death and hurt every single day, she was the life and soul of Holby, not only for me, but for all who had the honour and pleasure to know her. She may have worn her 'war paint' and appeared hard as nails but the Frieda I got to know towards the end was a sweet and life-loving person."

Michael took a breath before gathering his strength for another push, "I loved her," tears began to fall down his beautiful tanned skin onto the marble floor, "I loved her with all my heart, soul and mind. It wasn't fair that she was so cruelly taken from all of us who loved her so. I would have spent the rest of my life with her but now…I can't. I will always carry her memory with me, so to me she won't _ever_ be dead, but alive in my heart. I trust that all of you who remember her with fondness and love will also _never_ let my Frieda die."

Having said all he was able to say to such an unknown public, Michael slowly went back to his seat next to Derzhka and Jasmine. Upon sitting down, Derzhka took one of his hands in hers and held it firmly.

"Thank you, Michael. Thank you so much for everything," quickly she looked down at her feet.

Perplexed, Michael asked, "What is it?"

"She would have been proud of you…and I am too."

Michael looked into the bloodshot eyes of the woman who could have easily become his future mother-in-law and recognising the same hurt and pain that he felt, just embraced her in a fierce hug and thanked her. The remainder of the service flew by as Michael just closed his eyes and thought of Frieda and how he was ever going to be able to return to Holby City General Hospital with the knowledge that she would never walk through the door ever again or help him treat a patient or listen to him complain about Annaliese. He was the only member of Team Spence left now…

Once the service concluded with Frieda's elegant coffin being carried from the church, Michael made his farewells to what was left of her family. Then, with a heavy heart, he returned to England and Holby not really sure of what the future held for him.

* * *

_Three weeks later…_

"Mr. Spence? There's an RTA down on the bypass and all the casualties are being directed here," a nameless voice said.

"Yeah okay, whatever. Just let me know when all hell breaks loose in here, 'til then, I'll be in my office."

The American doctor strode away from the nurses' station and through a door to the office he shared with Ric Griffin, who was currently on holiday with his daughter, so luckily Michael had the run of the place. As he slumped down into his chair, he held his stubbly face in his hands.

Every day since his return from Ukraine had been an uphill struggle with no rest. Not even his kids had the power to hoist him out of the depression he was still feeling having lost Frieda forever. _Frieda…_the only woman he loved with all his being who was now six feet under in a different country, not making small talk or sarcastic comments at him from a patient's bedside. He missed that…he missed them working together at Holby, he regretted not realising how he felt for the spunky nurse before it was too late.

All that remained of her in his life now was memories and one photograph that sat next to his computer screen. It was the first thing he looked at when he came to work in his office in the morning before starting on his patient rounds and surgeries and the last thing he saw before he ended his day. If he stayed on call at the hospital, he took the sterling silver frame with black inlay with him to the small room and wished the girl in it 'goodnight' before he slept. Michael did not hide the fact that he sorely missed Frieda from anyone, he knew most of the staff were aware that he occasionally talked to a photo frame containing the image of his dead lover. Those who had known Frieda were tactful enough never to bring up the topic with him, as the cancer ward had been enough to reveal the true feelings shared between the co-workers and the whole hospital saw how hard Mr. Spence had to petition Henrik Hanssen to refurbish the old and bleak oncology ward and give it a new lease of life, along with a new name.

The Spence Petrenko Cancer Unit had been financed mostly by Michael Spence but the renowned Niklaus Zadorozhny from Ukraine had also been a major benefactor for the memorial wing for his sister-in-law. There was no grand opening with a mob of paparazzi trying to get a good sob story for their newspaper, the humble and solemn opening was only attended by those who knew Frieda or who were invited by the hospital board. Michael had begun the negotiations for the work while Frieda was still alive, so when he returned there would be something of her at Holby for him to appreciate. He flew all of her family in from Ukraine, including Nadia Tereschenko.

Michael then stopped brooding over all that had taken place since he got back and he knew that irritating Australian nurse would be in to call him for the first casualty of the road accident, so he collected himself, looked at himself quickly in the mirror to see if he was still fit to be seen as a doctor. He looked one last time at the photo of Frieda, the photo which Derzhka had given him, the photo of her when she was young and carefree and _so _beautiful. She had become that Frieda again before she died and he loved her all the more because she was complex and an intricate personality, but he loved her most of all because without a shadow of a doubt, she was _his_.

"See you later, sweetheart," Michael said, stroking the glass that sheltered her pale cheek, "it's going to be a long, long day, but you'll be looking over my shoulder helping me every second of it."


End file.
